


She Wolf (Falling to Pieces)

by dragonofdispair, Rizobact



Series: TFPrime Shattered Glass AU [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Character Death (Past), Gen, Hacking (past), Lima Syndrome, Mentions of Abuse (past), Mentions of Cannibalism (past), Mind Games, Platonic Relationships, Prophecy, Telepathy, Unstable Character(s), Visions, mental manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact
Summary: At the end of Season One, Unicron is defeated. Still on Earth, the Decepticons find themselves with an unexpected, unhinged guest. Soundwave wants to help him, but Prowl isn’t the only broken mech on theVictory.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> OMG! This took SO long to complete. It started over TWO years ago as an RP right after we’d decided to coauthor this series. At that time, it was just a way for us to explore the characters so we could both write them. Then we decided to clean it up for publishing. We had a bunch of copied Skype chat to work with… So this kind of languished in editing hell, worked on only really when we didn’t have anything else to do. But we’ve FINALLY finished it, and now we’re publishing it. Unbeta’d, because we think it’s waited long enough.
> 
> We are perfectly aware that Lima Syndrome is often used as a romantic trope in stories. This is not one of those stories.
> 
> If you haven’t read any of the other stories in this series, the relevant Cliff(jumper)sNotes you should know are: Ultra Magnus was using Prowl, a mad, feral prophet roaming Cybertron’s ruined wastelands, to come up with winning strategies for battle and to harness the power of Dark Energon so he could rival Optimus Prime. No one, Autobot or Decepticon, knew that Prowl was the source of his knowledge, or that the source of Prowl’s knowledge (the price for which was his sanity) was the gods their world had forgotten. Soundwave, like many of his fellow Decepticons, has suffered many losses over the course of the war but never had the opportunity to properly mourn them. He’s forced himself to carry on with Laserbeak as his only remaining symbiote, ignoring the cracks losing Rumble, Frenzy, and Ravage left inside him.

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_What do you see in those yellow eyes?_

— David Guetta (featuring Sia) _“She Wolf (Falling to Pieces)”_

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# Prologue One

“Optimus… Brother, set aside your pride for one moment,” Megatron pled to the beaten Prime. Unicron's puppets (for lack of another term) had really done a number on him, but left him alive. The… _god_ , if Cliffjumper was to be believed, wanted the pleasure of crushing the Prime once it was fully awake and aware and capable of savoring the moment.

(Later, much later, it would occur to him to wonder why this, too, had not been subject to the reversal in morality Cliffjumper had described. It only made sense that if Primus had reshaped the Prime into an evil reflection of that other Optimus, should the god itself not be the evil one? And yet, still, it was Unicron that so demonstrably longed for the destruction of all that was.)

_Trapped in a crate in a crashed spaceship, a hundred miles from Megatron and his thoughts, a twisted creature cackled to the darkness, caring not that the Warlord’s thoughts were far in the future._

“Unicron will destroy us all,” Megatron continued, holding out his hand. Polished gold metal gleamed in the blazing fire that was sunset on Earth, while Optimus’ armor drank in the light like the darkest void between stars. “Decepticon and Autobot alike. We _need_ to stand together to defeat him.”

_A thousand possibilities revolved around each other, around and around. Ring around the roses. Take the hand, reject the hand, kill each other… over and over and over… fate revolved once again around the choice of these two. From one end, a beginning, from one beginning, an end…_

_As one of the tremors of the Enemy’s awakening damaged the ship’s last jury-rigged cloaking device and the wreckage the Autobots had been using for their base flickered erratically into view, Prowl howled._

Optimus bristled, growled, then finally—

_—He took Megatron’s hand._

—He took Megatron’s hand.

 _Now, Prowl thought. Now. Now. Now. Now. He scratched and clawed at the inside of his crate as the sounds of distant battle echoed around him. Seekers dropped bombs, blowing more holes in the hull, as the Autobots desperately collected everything for an evacuation, the truce that had just been called by their leaders unknown and unknowable… Fracking drone-humping puppet,_ this _is the moment you were crafted for. NOW!_

“Isn’t this just the sweetest thing,” for someone so huge, Ultra Magnus moved unnervingly quiet when he wished. Both Megatron and Optimus aimed weapons at the anti-energon tainted Autobot. As ~~she~~ _it_ always did, the Empty that had once been Airachnid limped along behind him. “Peace,” the tainted mech spat like the word was poison in his intake. “I did not become what I am to serve another, not even this so-called _god_. I approve, entirely, of your plan to destroy Him. And I can show you where to find the god’s ember.”

It felt, Megatron thought, too much like the last piece of a puzzle, crafted perfectly by some unknown carver to fit into this place. He didn’t trust it, but they did not have the time for doubt.

“Lead us to the heart of this so-called, _god_ ,” Optimus snarled, obviously thinking the same as his lost-brother about his loyal/traitorous second in command.

 _As the seekers broke through the now abandoned_ Ark _and started searching the place for anything else, any Autobots left, anything of use left behind, Prowl howled with laughter with the very voice of the damned._

# Prologue Two

Cliffjumper stared at the dirty, dull grey form of a mech who was nevertheless familiar to him. “It’s Prowl,” he said, shock and the beginnings of depression leaking into his voice. Megatron and Starscream exchanged looks behind his back. “He is… was Pri— the Autobot second in command. Our combat tactician. Calm. Logical.” Nothing like the wild, twisted wreck in the brig cell in front of him.

“Is it,” Starscream began, gentle of Cliffjumper’s feelings and hesitant to tread into memories he wasn’t welcome in, “worth interrogating him?”

Was it? The dull grey Praxan had made himself quite at home in the Decepticon brig, tearing the cell’s berth down into a crude nest of metal mesh fragments and broken circuitry and curled up under his own doorwings. Gold optics gazed out of the pile of limbs and scraps with a combination of animal intelligence and the frightening cunning of his battle computer. Absently he scratched at the dull red chevron with crudely sharpened claws.

“I don’t know,” Cliffjumper responded, and despaired that he couldn’t actually answer the question. Had Prowl been even a shadow of the self he was in Cliff’s own universe, but twisted and evil as he’d come to expect of his old allies in this one, he would have said that he needed to be interrogated as soon as possible. And then executed before his battle computer had a chance to find some crack in their prisoner protocols and the mech escaped, probably wreaking havoc and stealing everything he could from the Decepticons in the process. A breem or two was enough time to interrogate someone, right? But this Prowl, the Prowl he was actually confronted with… the battle computer might have something in it worth taking, but it was doubtful the mech himself did. “He’s… not supposed to be like this. At all.”

“Don’t pity me,” the wreck growled unexpectedly, and three sets of weapons were leveled at him through the brig’s force field. He shook off the scraps of his nest and crouched, like a dog ready to lunge. “I made my choice before the universe was made. Convergence could not come unopposed. Heroes and villains… Two avatars of two unknown gods, a warrior-Prime and the Warlord who is his equal. I paid the price for our future and I will not be _pitied for it!_ ”

With a screech unlike any Cliffjumper heard issued from a mech’s vocalizer, Prowl flung himself at the force field, claws outstretched. Three shots ricocheted or were absorbed by the barrier and the prisoner didn’t even flinch. Heedless of the pain it must have caused, he pushed against the wall of solid light flexing against his plating in its effort to hold him, the surface layer of unpainted metal bubbling where he pushed with his whole body, until the very tips of his crude claws pierced it.

Then with a surge the force field flung Prowl away, back into the cell, so hard he crashed into the opposite wall where he fell into a heap of scorched metal.

He twitched, alive, and, Cliffjumper realized with a jolt, laughing.

Megatron and Starscream just looked at the red minibot, silently asking him what they should do about Prowl, and Cliffjumper just did not have an answer.


	2. Chapter 1

No one knew what to make of the strange mech recovered from the crate in Ultra Magnus' quarters that Cliffjumper had identified as Prowl, or what to do with him. He was wild, dangerous to approach, and other than the odd confrontation directly following his capture, hadn't responded to any attempts to question him by anyone. They needed a different way to get inside his head, and that meant that the job of figuring it all out fell to Soundwave.

As a telepath, Soundwave knew that thinking about Prowl bothered Cliffjumper a great deal. Cliff felt he was dangerous, though no one else shared the sentiment. There were no signs of the intelligence that so worried the displaced Autobot in Prowl's behavior; in fact, what little observation Soundwave had done so far didn't even bear out his (already proven) ability to speak. The only impressions he’d been able to pick up from their new prisoner, invisibly watching and 'listening' from a distance in the brig, were animal-like and not-sane.

He hadn't done any in-depth digging yet though. This was brand new territory, something that needed a careful and methodical approach if they wanted to reasonably determine whether Prowl did indeed pose a threat to them. Soundwave didn't need to be a telepath to know that same thought would have occurred to another on the ship. Someone who had a tendency to hole up in his lab for orns, even decaorns, at a time, being careful and methodical.

It was time to talk to Shockwave.

The sight of the scientist bent over his workbench assembling a… device… of some sort was familiar, as was being ignored when he walked into the lab. Soundwave was used to not being acknowledged by many of his fellow Decepticons. After he had lost… after the _incident_ , most weren't comfortable in his presence. Shockwave, however, always treated him the same way as he always had. The mech no longer truly understood such things as social niceties, though he tried. It was just one of the his many peculiarities.

Another, unfortunately, was his habit of going ahead with an idea when it occurred to him without consulting Lord Megatron first. Not because he wasn't loyal — he was — or because he wanted to hide what he was doing — he didn't — but because his projects weren't anything he considered secret. He simply occasionally forgot that such a minor thing as permission was necessary before beginning certain things, and would then become too involved in his work to inform anyone of what he was doing once he started.

He did always have the best interests of the Decepticons in mind, however, which kept Soundwave from being overly worried. Still, he didn't like to let Shockwave get too far along with his pet projects without investigating at least a little. That had been easier in the past when he had all of his symbiotes to help him keep an optic on thi— 

Soundwave forced the memory to the back of his processing queue. He didn't have time to succumb to the pain now. What mattered now was determining whether or not Shockwave's latest project was related to his own. Probable, as a scan of Shockwave's surface thoughts told Soundwave the assorted parts in various stages of construction on the bench were going to become a puzzle, the first in a series, intended for their new prisoner.

"Shockwave! Report." Soundwave issued the command using Starscream's voice, a relatively recent recording.

At the words, Shockwave looked up and came slowly to attention. He was massive compared to most in both height and mass, a fact he tried to hide by wearing a cheerful yellow color on a long-dead mech's advice. "The puzzle is nearly complete. I hope to have the first prototype cryptex finished and available for testing by tomorrow," he reported. 

He spoke as though Soundwave already knew about the project, though not out of the common assumption that Soundwave always knew everything because he'd been spying. Being the Decepticon's intelligence officer came with a certain stigma even without Soundwave’s rumored… talents, but in Shockwave's case, it was simply another consequence of his forgetting that approval from a higher authority was a necessary step, along with getting so absorbed in his work he forgot that others weren't privy to his train of thought. The fact that Soundwave  _ could be _ privy to it was an advantage, but it didn't negate the need to ask questions.

"Purpose of prototype: to engage subject?" Often it was easiest to splice together the scientists' own words when speaking to him, as Soundwave did now. He forced an uptick in the pitch of the end of the playback to indicate a question. Unlike most, it didn't bother Shockwave to hear his voice being played back at him. There were no voices Soundwave needed to consciously avoid using when communicating with him, in fact, even Autobot recordings, though out of respect for their ally he had long since purged any clips he had of the  _ original  _ Cliffjumper from his lexicon.

"Affirmative. Cliffjumper believes the subject to posses superior mental abilities, however we have seen no evidence of this. Knockout hypothesizes that the subject is damaged and unable to engage with us through no fault of his own." Shockwave's response came with no personal opinion one way or the other about how much at fault Prowl was for his behavior; the words were simply a summary of Knockout's evaluation.

"It is my belief that this puzzle and others like it will allow us to engage with the subject, bridging at least a portion of the communications gap by rewarding the subject for success with something we have already observed he desires: energon."

Unsaid was the fact that the puzzle didn't need to either talk or understand what was said to it to function as a task/reward system, thus bypassing what Shockwave believed to be the major barrier to the mental abilities Cliffjumper believed Prowl to have.

Cliffjumper believed more than that about their prisoner, in fact; he believed that Prowl was dangerous. Believed that he was smart, capable, and, taking the morality shift into account, currently planning to escape and kill them all in the process. But Soundwave’s observations so far had failed to show any signs he was right. There hadn’t been much in his processor beyond base, almost mechanimal level processing, but Prowl had spoken to Cliffjumper when they’d met. Intelligently spoken with him. The possibility that the calculating intellect Cliffjumper feared existed wasn’t one Soundwave could ignore. 

“Intent: this puzzle, others like it; bring about improvement in the patient’s condition?” Knockout’s voice carried more inflection than others, and there was sympathy in the words Soundwave borrowed.

“Improvement would be a positive result,” Shockwave answered, “but I cannot assume that improvement is a reasonable goal. Data from his reaction to this puzzle is required. Right now a simple confirmation of higher processing abilities beneath his animalistic behaviors would be sufficient to confirm the hypothesis,”  _ that the subject does in fact have higher processing capabilities though perhaps not to the level Cliffjumper describes, _ Shockwave’s thoughts continued. That disbelief was rooted in arrogance. The feats Cliffjumper described his own Prowl capable of would put him on the same level of intelligence as Shockwave himself, at least, and that was difficult for the scientist to believe.

Soundwave wasn’t as willing to discount the possibility, but he knew from long experience that arguing with Shockwave on that point would get him nowhere. Particularly with no data. That discussion would have to wait for Prowl to do something that indicated he possessed that kind of mental ability. 

“Confirmation of higher processing abilities, desirable. Intended method of delivery?” Since Prowl’s animalistic behavior was documented, Soundwave didn’t want anyone injured while attempting to learn more about their prisoner. Prowl had already proven to be unpredictably violent and wickedly fast.

“In deference to the mech’s observed dangerous traits, this prototype requires minimal interaction.” Shockwave hadn’t been present, but he had seen the recording of Prowl’s reaction to Cliffjumper. “Simply insert fuel into the puzzle and close it, then give it to the subject using the same protocols we currently use to deliver his regular energon ration. The first prototype is intended to be relatively simple to solve, yet requires actual deductive thought.” After a pause he added, “Gelled energon would perhaps be better than liquid for this; it is possible that the subject will attempt more animalistic methods before engaging with the puzzle logically, even if he is capable.”

Gelled energon was a form of emergency rations. It took some energy to process, but could still be ingested after being squished, slammed or otherwise mech-handled roughly, where liquid would only be a spilled mess on the ground. Soundwave thought about what Prowl’s likely reaction to anything new in his environment might be. Prowl had, thus far, chewed through the clear cubes to get at the energon inside. He was no more confused by them than a turborat long used to stealing from the Decepticons’ storerooms would be, but this was designed to challenge that familiarity. It could be initially frustrating. 

He gave a slow nod, affirming both Shockwave’s suggestions of gelled energon and his proposal in general. As long as it required no more physical interaction than delivering rations already did, Soundwave didn’t see any issues with allowing the experiment to proceed as stated. Regardless of what information it garnered them, they had next to nothing right now, and for Soundwave the lack of intel bordered on physical discomfort. 

“Proceed,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily, since it was unlikely Shockwave would  _ stop _ at this juncture. Soundwave had what he needed to report on Shockwave’s activities to Megatron. Further, though the scientist was rather tightly focused on confirming Prowl’s ability to open the puzzle, Soundwave could think of several other useful results. If Prowl could not open the puzzle, gauging how long it took him to forget it contained energon could be useful for Knockout, to help determine what sort of processor damage they potentially were dealing with. “Exercise reasonable precautions. First prototype: estimated timeframe for completion?”

“Tomorrow.” 

Soundwave was pleased (and not really surprised) to hear it would be done so soon. He definitely wanted to observe Prowl’s response in person. Reviewing security footage did not allow him to use his telepathy to monitor the mech’s mental state, after all. “Soundwave: would like to be present.”

“Of course.” Shockwave’s thoughts said he had never considered Soundwave would not be there. The prisoner was the security officer’s responsibility, and Soundwave’s telepathy would add useful data to the experiment. “You will have to be the one to present it to him.”

Soundwave had not expected that; he had assumed Shockwave would want to carry out the experiment himself. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, however. It served his own purpose well, but he was curious about the general sense he picked up that Shockwave found this an eminently reasonable arrangement. “Shockwave: prefers to observe? Reasoning?”

“Though the goal is, ultimately, to bypass the subject’s animalistic behaviors in order to access his potential for rational thought, caution must be exercised not to attempt too much too quickly, or the changes in routine will trigger a defensive reaction. Quite simply, he is right now accustomed to taking his energon from you and we will receive optimal results if the puzzle itself is the only new element to that routine.” An additional, unspoken, thought was that Shockwave was also very aware that most found him intimidating, despite the mitigating effect of his chosen color (which Shockwave perceived as more of a mitigating factor than it really was), and he did not wish to risk setting off the prisoner’s threat response. He said nothing of this; the question was why  _ Soundwave _ should give the puzzle to the subject and not why Shockwave should not. In Shockwave’s mind they were two different questions with two different answers… and that was also normal for him.

That line of reasoning (both of them) was logical, and would allow Soundwave to be closer to Prowl as he worked on the puzzle, just like he wanted. Hopefully he would be able to pick up something from the mech as he engaged his processor to attempt to solve the puzzle. He  _ had _ thought that Shockwave would want him to observe somewhere hidden and at a bit of a distance to avoid influencing the experiment, but he much preferred this, whatever Shockwave’s specific reasoning was.

“Understood. Shockwave: alert Soundwave, when preparations are complete.” In the meantime, Soundwave would make a preliminary report to Lord Megatron. Their leader should be informed of any progress, or even lack thereof, that they were making with the subject.

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Shortly before Prowl's usual feeding time the next day, Shockwave sent a comm that the puzzle was ready. He demonstrated how to set it up when Soundwave met him at the brig, explaining that Soundwave would have to be the one to operate it since Prowl would need to see the energon go into the box. His instructions stated to give it in lieu of Prowl’s normal ration in the same manner as a regular cube to give him maximum incentive to solve the puzzle rather than ignore it. A single day’s ration wouldn't starve him to miss if it turned out he was incapable of it.

When it was time, Shockwave set himself up in an unobtrusive corner of the brig. Despite his size and bulk, he blended in surprisingly well. It was the lack of body language; without the normal emotional cues that usually separated mech from machine, mechs overlooked his presence. That stillness and lack of subtle gestures was something Soundwave occasionally did as well, though it was far more impressive in Shockwave, in his opinion. 

Once Shockwave confirmed he was ready, Soundwave stepped into view of Prowl's cell with the puzzle in one hand, energon in the other. He paused a few steps away, reaching out with his telepathy as he scanned the cell for its occupant visually.

Prowl was once again busy shredding previous energon cubes into plastic strips of fluffy bedding for his nest, which had grown since he originally demolished the recharge berth to create it. Soundwave could feel a sense that Prowl was sort-of-waiting for him to appear with energon, making it clear he had internalized that much of the routine just as Shockwave had said he would have. Still, he didn’t notice Soundwave arriving at first. This wasn’t new; despite his behavior with Cliffjumper initially, Prowl occasionally didn't seem to realize there was a world outside his cell to pay attention to.

It seemed today was one of those days. That meant trying to get his attention somehow, and the same methods didn't always work, even if they had before. Usually at feeding time Soundwave wouldn’t bother, since Prowl always paid attention to the cube once it was inside the cell just fine, but this time he needed him to watch the energon being placed in the puzzle box first.

Soundwave certainly wasn't willing to go so far as to completely drop the force field that separated them to expand Prowl’s ‘world’ in an attempt to draw his attention, but he had direct control over it through his remote link with the ship’s systems and could alter it without having to stand at the console. Creating brief interruptions in the strength and frequency of the field caused both visible and audible disturbances to the barrier, and Soundwave tried that first. Hopefully, even though the force field was at the edge of the space Prowl was aware of, it would be enough.

Luckily it did draw Prowls attention this time, though only to the force field itself. He still didn't seem to be aware there might be something or someone beyond it, even though there was nothing obscuring line of sight between the two of them. He raised his doorwings in what was often a threat display for his frametype and hissed a surprisingly organic sound, baring his teeth. 

_ Curious, _ Soundwave thought. With any luck Shockwave wouldn’t consider this contaminating his results; it was trial and error getting Prowl to respond, and predicting what form those responses would take had so far proven very difficult. He stepped closer so that he could reach out and touch the force field and let a soothing organic purr rumble from his speakers. He hoped it would both calm Prowl and bring his focus through the barrier to Soundwave so that he could proceed with the puzzle.

Prowl obviously heard the purr, and, after scanning the entire cell for the source, he honed in on where Soundwave was touching the barrier. After a moment of intense confusion, he made the connection to the image of Soundwave as the source of the sound, and then, like a blind leap off a cliff, made the connection that he was on the other side of a clear barrier. Telepathically, Soundwave could sense that this brought a feeling of anticipation; he recognized that sometimes the appearance of Soundwave coincided with the appearance of food, and his routine did say that now was the  _ time _ for the cube to appear. Soundwave did not sense that Prowl actually considered him the  _ source _ of the fuel; he just recognized a pair of connected events.

Just as well he hadn’t made the connection, really. It could have been a distraction from the point, which was the puzzle. As he heard Prowl’s thoughts shift to the possible appearance of energon, Soundwave held up the gelled ration prominently, waiting for acknowledgement. It would do no good to place it out of sight if Prowl wasn’t watching him do it. 

Since he was actually in a state that acknowledged that ‘outside the cell’ existed, Prowl focused on the energon immediately, with the sort of intensity that was only really common in those who had gone very long periods on the very edge of starvation. The Decepticons had been bad off on Cybertron, but never so bad off that more than one or two of those frametypes with the highest fuel requirements had exhibited that behavior. It was consistent with other times Soundwave had observed Prowl: any fuel within his current definition of ‘the world’ held his attention, and he never let it go to waste.

This time though, that focus was accompanied by the image/memory of Ultra Magnus presenting a cube in a very similar manner. There was also a very fleeting evaluation of Soundwave  _ himself _ as a potential source of fuel, which was new as well. But the force field kept both the cube and Soundwave — an echo of  _ his plating is probably thinner than Ultra Magnus’ _ — out of Prowl’s reach at the moment, and the mech’s conclusion was that it would be easier to wait for the cube… for now. 

The implications were somewhat unsettling, but not entirely surprising to Soundwave. The only way a mech could survive what Prowl had clearly managed to live through would be by assessing threats and evaluating risk versus reward. It was the mindset of a predator… And, incidentally, the thought process of a tactician, though there was still no indication of the capability to perform that function. Whatever Cliffjumper had said. Still, that was the point of this: to discover whether or not the ability was there, beneath the damage, or if Prowl was too far gone to pose a significant threat to the Decepticons.

The impression that Ultra Magnus had done something similar was  _ far _ more ominous than Prowl’s fleeting thought about Soundwave’s plating. If that mech had seen fit to keep Prowl (and he  _ had _ been discovered captive in the Autobot’s quarters) and feed him like this, there had to have been a reason. Soundwave very much doubted it was because that maniac had enjoyed keeping a broken mech as some sort of pet.

Soundwave tentatively reached out to read Prowl’s mind, looking for further detail, but found it curiously blank. It wasn’t a firewalled mind, it was a no-one-home mind, despite the evidence to the contrary, with only the faintest traces of operating code that were normally drowned out by conscious, or unconscious, thoughts.

“Here kitty kitty kitty…” Prowl breathed, almost too soft to be heard. Shockwave, standing further from the cell, probably didn’t hear it, but Soundwave did. The words triggered a cascade inside his processor, and for a moment he was overwhelmed by a flood of memories. Images filled the inside of his face mask until he could no longer see the prisoner, or even the brig. Flashes of a felinoid symbiote running after Laserbeak, darting around Starscream’s feet, purring against Soundwave’s frame… He looked up and saw the ghost image of the cybercat out of the corner of his vision, and for a nanoklik the puzzle in his hand was Ravage’s favorite toy.

Temporarily blind to the world around him, Soundwave didn’t truly see Prowl’s doorwings flutter in amusement as he watched. Still, the motion drew his attention as it would have his symbiote’s, breaking the spell and scattering the memories back into pixels.

“The threads have been cut, but they tie you nevertheless… delusions and drawbacks summon only echoes.” Prowl gave a surprisingly feline yawn and, for a moment, his frame-language was a perfect match for Ravage’s, despite their extremely different frametypes. “Echoes leave scars.” 

Soundwave  _ felt  _ scarred. The words scraped along still-raw pathways in his processor and caused hidden welds, long since (only partially) healed over, to sting again. It had been a while since he had last thought of Ravage — a while since he’d last thought of any of his lost symbiotes, in fact. The alien environment of this strange planet had been helping him cope better with the trauma, both by being unfamiliar and interesting and by keeping him so busy. But now he was struggling not to sink beneath a rising tide of grief. It would serve no purpose, he  _ knew  _ that. And he had a task to accomplish! Mentally he shook himself, trying to dislodge the vision of Ravage overlaying the reality before him.

Then Prowl cackled, and once again his movements were his own frame-language; predatory enough to evoke a similarity that Soundwave could not ignore, but with a Praxan’s own limits and flourishes, no different than that he’d been displaying since his capture. Thoughts crept slowly into his mind now, though Soundwave felt no mirth from him, despite the laughter. There was instead, calculation: again Prowl thought how much less of a threat Soundwave was than Ultra Magnus. Not how threatening, but how much  _ of  _ a threat. Soundwave’s ‘plating’ — both in the sense of literal armor, and his figurative mental armor — was thinner.

And Prowl  _ wanted _ that energon. 

Head clear again, Soundwave checked his internal log quickly to confirm that there had been no external signs of his lapse. Fortunately, none of the images he’d seen had appeared externally on his mask, and no sound had made it past his speakers. Good. He would have hated for Shockwave to decide he was unfit to continue and postpone the experiment over such a minor loss of control.

Soundwave tried to set aside his discomfort and the growing sense of unease he felt in Prowl's presence to move ahead with the next phase of the plan. Prowl was staring fixedly at the puzzle box in his hand, and when he looked down at it too, it once more appeared to be what it was. Carefully, he placed the energon gel inside the cryptex, angling the device so that Prowl could see the fuel sitting inside before sealing it. Then, following his usual routine, he held the puzzle up like a regular cube and allowed it to pass through the barrier, bending the force field around it until it fell into the cell where Prowl could get it.

Prowl pounced on the puzzle box as soon as it was within reach, to all appearances completely forgetting about both Soundwave and his own disturbing behavior from before. He tried prying it open with his crude claws and blunt teeth, even testing if it would break open under his weight by drawing back and pouncing again. Twice he threw it against the wall, and three times against the force field, knowing that the force-wall had different properties than the other walls. It seemed Shockwave was wise to use the solid gel rather than liquid energon…

But something else was going on in the prisoner's mind. He was taking it apart: each screw unwound and removed, each nail pried up, each rivet stressed at its weakest point until it broke in simulation. He reduced it to its parts so vividly, the simulation was so strong and so real that Soundwave was drawn into it as it played out. He was surprised when Prowl suddenly reached the end of it, running an unexpectedly logical analysis (though several of the variables seemed to be replaced by nonsense or corrupted code that Soundwave could not parse). Its conclusion was that it was not yet worth the effort of opening the box, and Soundwave was practically thrown back into the real world where Prowl was… gnawing at the plating of the puzzle with his teeth?

Checking his chronometer, Soundwave realized that simulation and analysis combined had taken less than a second. Not even a Cybertronian klik; less than a Earth second.

Well. That certainly answered the question of whether or not the mech was capable of higher level processing. The analysis Soundwave had just witnessed was so powerful he had been pulled along with it, and so detailed that even watching it unfold it had gone by too quickly for him to process it completely in real time; he could feel himself catching up with parts of it at a lag now that it was finished. But if Prowl was capable of such feats, why didn't he use that ability more?

Prowl began running another simulation as Soundwave continued to watch, this time coming up with a shorter, simpler method of taking apart the box, with fewer steps needed to get at the energon inside. This time, knowing what to expect, Soundwave was able to get a better look at the variables at the end in the analysis. The key variable was one of those consisting of corrupted code, making it impossible to understand its relevance, but the results of the analysis indicated that that variable would no longer impede the implementation of this particular solution when fuel levels reached 10%.

Then the mech ran yet another sim, this one resulting in an even simpler method of overcoming that variable which could be implemented at 15% fuel levels. Then again, simpler still, with a result that would overcome the variable when fuel levels reached 26%. And finally, the simplest solution yet: solving the puzzle as intended, implementable when fuel levels reached 30%.

It was an impressive feat of analysis; data mining and analysis was Soundwave's job, alongside his duties as the communications officer, but the kind of tactical simulations that assessed different options for efficacy and weighed their cost against their usefulness like Prowl was doing didn’t come quite as easily to him as they clearly did to Prowl. Watching the expert manipulation of the variables, even the ones he couldn't understand, and seeing the solution come together in Prowl's processor was fascinating enough to distract him momentarily from how disturbing the mech was, and Soundwave couldn't help but feel a measure of respect for what he'd just witnessed… as well as a flash of consternation over how to explain  _ any  _ of it to Shockwave.

It seemed that one particular variable (whatever it actually represented) had quite a lot of influence on Prowl's behavior. He wasn't willing to solve the puzzle to get at the energon until his fuel levels were lower based solely on it. According to what Soundwave knew of Praxan frametypes and the amount of energon Prowl was being fed in captivity, his fuel levels should be close to 70%. Far too high for him to open the puzzle now while they watched.

Indifferent to Soundwave’s dilemma, Prowl continued his entirely animalistic behavior in regards to the puzzle. Behind him, Soundwave sensed Shockwave starting to draw his own conclusions. He wasn't truly disappointed — Soundwave wasn't sure he could be anymore, or if that was one of the emotions the Autobots had taken from him — but he genuinely did not like being forced to reevaluate his data.

Unfortunately, the conclusions Shockwave was reaching — that Prowl wasn’t capable of the mental acuity Cliffjumper described and that Soundwave had just witnessed — were erroneous. Deciding that, for now, Prowl wouldn’t suffer for the missed ration as a result of not opening the puzzle, Soundwave stepped away from the force field and returned to Shockwave. If Prowl was really going to wait until his fuel levels fell that low, Soundwave wasn’t sure the other officers would permit depriving him to that extent, even for the sake of an experiment aimed partially at determining the mech’s threat levels. Particularly if the head scientist had already decided there was no point. 

“Prisoner: found solution,” he said, vocal tone flat as he combined different recordings to get the words he needed. It cost him inflection and emphasis, but literal meaning was more important at the moment. Shockwave wouldn’t be bothered by lack of emotion, and Soundwave needed to communicate as clearly as possible. “Question, not of ability. Question: of  _choice_ .”

Shockwave stepped out of his lurking spot, his personality suddenly filling the space around him. Prowl hissed in threat display from inside his cell, protective of the energon he knew was in the cryptex.  _ That mech does not have thin plating — THREAT,  _ Soundwave overheard. Shockwave watched the display for a moment before speaking. “Unexpected. The subject has expressed little desire for anything but fuel, yet energon is not enough motivation to demonstrate his abilities. Reasoning?”

“Demonstration, made in processor,” Soundwave continued with his spliced recordings. “Physical demonstration, actualization of thought: not deemed necessary. Fuel levels: too high.” He brought up a display on his face mask, a fuel gauge with Prowl’s current estimated fuel level marked and a line at 30% where the simulation had indicated solving the puzzle would be worth the effort.

Shockwave's frame-language didn't change as he examined the diagram. "I see. Your telepathic abilities are not in question. Observed data would of course be preferable, however.”

"Understood. Shockwave, Soundwave: return to the lab to discuss further?" Prowl's awareness of the world outside the cell came and went unpredictably. Soundwave was not really comfortable continuing their discussion where they might be overheard, even though he could hear no matching concern in Shockwave's thoughts. The scientist was of the opinion that Prowl would not be able to understand their conversation, continuing to ascribe him mere mechanimal levels of intelligence. Soundwave wasn't so sure, despite Prowl gnawing on the puzzle, to all his senses oblivious to them again after the short startled threat response to what, from his perspective, had been Shockwave's sudden appearance.

"Of course." Shockwave was not thinking of Prowl at all now, only of the lab as a more appropriate place for any sort of discussion owing to its proximity to any equipment he might need. In deference to Soundwave’s rank, he allowed him to lead the way.

Soundwave turned back briefly as a final afterimage flickered in his vision on their way out of the brig, the familiar shape of his beloved cybercat following them out into the hall. He steadfastly did not acknowledge it. Instead, he focused on compiling his data into a concise packet, paraphrasing his perceptions as factually as possible. Not an easy feat, given the sheer amount of Prowl's thoughts that were completely incomprehensible. How well did the mech himself understand his own mind?

Upon arriving in the lab, Shockwave politely arranged a pair of lab chairs at his workbench for their use, then booted up the console and other minor chores. Again because of his relative rank, he didn’t command Soundwave to ‘report’ and instead sat down to wait. Soundwave could tell how eager he was to get his data though, even though true impatience was another one of those emotions he was no longer capable of.

Soundwave didn’t intend to keep Shockwave waiting any longer than he had to, but he also knew that taking the time to organize his observations first would pay off. Shockwave would not precisely appreciate it, any more than he could become genuinely impatient, but it would facilitate their discussion. 

After a final comb through his report for personal bias, Soundwave pinged the packet to the main console for Shockwave to review:

> Subject analysis: rate skills in the following areas:
> 
>   1. Spatial awareness
>   2. Mental awareness
>   3. Analytical ability
> 

> 
> Area 1. Spatial awareness – subject is intermittently aware of surroundings. Typical sphere of awareness is restricted to physical sphere of influence. Objects and mechs outside this area assessed for threat level and/or utility if noticed. Specific focus of assessment: energon procurement.
> 
> Area 2. Mental awareness – subject’s mind exists predominantly in a simplistic, predatory mindset. Higher level thought processes not present in this state. Speech has been observed possible in this phase, however intent and comprehension of speech is as of yet indeterminate.
> 
> Area 3. Analytical ability – subject possesses high level tactical simulation software capable of performing rapid calculations with multiple dynamic variables. Subject ran multiple analyses and determined multiple solutions to the puzzle ranked by necessary fuel level to prompt implementation. Simplest solution ranked for implementation at 30%; other solutions increasing in complexity ranked at 26%, 15%, and 10%.
> 
> Observational notes: subject runs tactical simulations based on and including corrupt and unidentifiable data. Subject possesses abnormal priority trees; cause of distortion, unknown. Estimated ability to predict prisoner behavior remains limited. Suggestion: increase danger assessment of prisoner to account for continued unpredictability and evidence of high level analytical skills.

“Preliminary findings, indicative of — capability: significantly beyond initial calculations,” he said by way of summary. He made no mention of the similarities to Ravage he'd noted in Prowl’s behavior, nor the strange, incomprehensible things he had said. It didn't make sense to include them. There was every possibility it had all come from his own distorted perception rather than Prowl, and they weren't dealing in possibilities, only what was concrete and certain.

"So the subject becomes more inclined to implement complex, rational problem solving the more desperate for energon he is?" 

"Direct relationship: appears to exist," Soundwave acknowledged. "Degree, unknown. Priorities, unclear. Opinion: withholding energon? Acceptable levels of deprivation?" He brought up the fuel gauge illustration again before reverting to a view of the cell. "Alternative, introduce new variables. Change the equation." 

"If he will truly refuse problem solving unless his fuel levels drop that low, then further experimentation becomes an ethical concern.” Not for Shockwave personally, but he was aware of and accepted the ethical restrictions placed on his research by their leader. “Changing other variables would a logical step to work around that. In your telepathic observation, was the type of energon a consideration for how much he desired it?" 

Shockwave meant the use of gelled energon over liquid, but Soundwave couldn’t help remembering the unsettling feeling that Prowl had been assessing him for how easy it would be to get the energon from his fuel lines, and determining when the effort required would be worth the risk. "Type of energon: irrelevant. Deciding factors, energon levels, difficulty of acquiring energon." 

"Frustrating. Further observation will be required to determine what sort of variables can be altered without mistreating the subject." His expression of frustration was a lie; if anything, Shockwave was as eager as he was capable of being over the thought of a new puzzle to solve, a new experiment to run. "Knockout's requests for a medical exam have thus far been denied based on the subject's unpredictability; perhaps we should concentrate on making it safe for him to perform one. Including a full code examination." 

"Determining cause of coding abnormalities, often key to repairing them. Minimum: understanding them. Predicting behavior." Soundwave agreed that they would need to find a way to guarantee the medic's safety, however. He was too valuable a resource to risk. "Efforts, to secure medical examination: will be made," he said. "Soundwave: advise Lord Megatron of initial findings. Request Knockout’s involvement." 

"Of course." Shockwave had assumed as much. He and Knockout had a… friendship of sorts between them, though it seemed to consist mostly of arguing. He drummed his fingers on the workbench. "Further, Knockout insists that mental stimulation is required. Continued denial would be cruel and providing enrichment may help improve his mental state. Thus I will continue building more puzzles and will provide them in addition to the subject’s normal ration. Even if he only ever mentally solves them, they will have accomplished that purpose." Processor already working on building the schematic for a new puzzle, Shockwave started pulling together tools and bits of metal on the table in front of him. 

"Query: Shockwave, proposes to introduce new puzzles? When?" Knowing the timeframe Shockwave had in mind was important if Soundwave was going to coordinate several other mechs around the scientist's activities. Shockwave worked with a certain inertia that was difficult to redirect, whereas Knockout, for all his attitude and witty remarks, was more amenable to being flexible. 

"The purpose of new puzzles is to stimulate mental facilities and observe behavior,” Shockwave replied. “I will design a succession of increasingly more difficult puzzles. The first can be built and introduced tomorrow; after that the timeframe will depend on him, and on your telepathic observations." 

In other words: he wanted his data. Once again, Soundwave wasn’t surprised. He left him to his work; right now, Soundwave needed to set a priority level for their continued experiments. Lord Megatron needed to know how urgent the situation was, even though Soundwave felt they were pretty much in the same position they’d started in. He knew Prowl was dangerous; he still had no idea how dangerous he might be, or what way that danger was likely to manifest.

He would need to be careful, not just with his reports to Lord Megatron, but in his discussions with Shockwave regarding certain of his observations. Shockwave trusted Soundwave's abilities more than many others who found them unsettling, since he wasn't capable of  _ being _ creeped out by them, but he was very adamant about not believing in what there was no proof of. It would be counterproductive for Soundwave to discredit himself by bringing up unscientific or unexplainable phenomena… or ghosts.

If it was truly a ghost he'd seen…


	3. Chapter 2

Before talking with Knockout about Prowl, or even doing anything further on his own, for that matter, Soundwave needed to check in with Lord Megatron… after checking the cell's surveillance, to see if Prowl had changed his behavior with the puzzle after he and Shockwave had left.

The footage revealed Prowl's only real deviation was that he had stopped at one point to fuss with his nest and then recharge with the box tucked under a wing where he could guard it. Afterwards he had ignored it for a while, scratching at the wall of the cell — always in the same spot — and otherwise continued his animalistic behavior with the cryptex.

Soundwave added those observations to his report in support of his note that Prowl was likely to wait until his energy levels dropped below reasonable levels to solve and open the puzzle. Then he loaded it on a datapad and sent a brief databurst to Lord Megatron, requesting an audience.

Megatron always made time for Soundwave, though on Cybertron it could occasionally take awhile for that time to materialize, if Soundwave didn't flag his requests as urgent. Here on Earth, there were fewer mechs, fewer avenues of Autobot attack; fewer distractions and delays in general for their leader. Except their  _other_ … Soundwave stumbled mentally over the word ‘prisoner’ because Megatron had insisted that Orion was not that. This time Megatron answered Soundwave’s request immediately with a list of possible times, the earliest of which was immediately.

Soundwave always respected his Lord's availability, but was glad that he wouldn't need to wait. He felt restless and nervous about Prowl, his lack of data and understanding troubling him. As were the things Prowl had said and done that triggered those memories of Ravage… but he wasn't ready to bring that up yet. Too soon, still too unquantified. He accepted the immediate appointment and brought the datapad with him to the appointed place.

As he approached, Soundwave saw a brief flash of blue and red disappear down a side corridor, away from him. There were only two mechs on the  _ Victory _ right now with those colors, and Orion’s thoughts were a quiet and fuzzy contrast to Starscream’s usually quite loud ones.

Soundwave  _ had _ checked that he was truly Orion, without any traces of the Prime left to him. Orion had seemed hurt by the, to him, sudden mistrust. That was probably why he avoided Soundwave now.

Megatron was waiting in one of the  _ Victory's _ conference rooms. Brilliant gold, his shoulders pulled back as he clasped his clawed hands behind his back and stared out the window at the ocean below, he cut an impressive figure. There had always been something about Megatron as intimidating as it was inspirational, something beyond simply his warframe and gladiator background that could frighten mechs if he wasn’t careful. It was why he often passed official dealings with the humans to Starscream (who used Cliffjumper as a diplomat as often as not). 

"Come in Soundwave." He didn't move from his pensive pose. "Tell me what's on your mind." 

Soundwave stepped silently up behind him and to the side, regarding the ocean as well before extending one arm with its spindly digits, holding out the datapad. "The Autobot prisoner Prowl," Shockwave's words, though whether Prowl was an Autobot prisoner or a prisoner of the Autobots and now them was ambiguous. Soundwave used recordings of Megatron himself very, very rarely, and never in the presence of the mech himself. ”Latest development: evidence of higher level critical thinking, observed." 

Megatron took the datapad and read it silently. He usually did his best to enable Soundwave to ‘speak’ in whichever way he preferred. The telepath had observed him thinking on several occasions that having his voice borrowed wouldn’t bother him, but that was a self assessment and not, necessarily, accurate. It was possible he  _ would _ be bothered if it happened, but he believed he would not be. Soundwave preferred not to test it.

When he was done, he handed the datapad back to Soundwave and retook his previous position, hands clasped behind his back. "I see. Shockwave oversteps himself, but not unduly. Your judgement is sound. Now tell me… What isn't in your report, Soundwave? You seem disturbed."

Megatron always had been more observant than mechs give him credit for, and had known Soundwave longer than almost anyone else. There were precious few of the original gladiator-rebels left. The personal interest Megatron took in his troops was one of the strongest pillars of the foundations of Soundwave's loyalty. He hadn't planned to disclose his other concerns yet, but in a way was relieved that Megatron asked. He’d been struggling to maintain his professional demeanor, and saw in the reflection of the window the flicker of his mask as it reset in an attempt to clear the ghost from his vision once again.

Megatron's brow-ridge lifted. He'd caught the nervous tick.

"Prisoner: spoke strangely. Triggered… memories." The oddness of Prowl's awareness, or lack thereof, contrasted with the pointed knowledge what he'd said had hinted at didn't make sense. Even if he had been capable of regular speech anymore, Soundwave wasn't sure he could articulate his feelings accurately. It had been almost like the mech had been taunting him. But how could he have been?

"Soundwave: did not compromise data on subject," he asserted quickly, wanting to at least establish that much before revealing anything deeper. "Reactions, managed. Suppressed. Processing."

"I know how well you manage to compartmentalize things, friend. I would not insult your objectivity. I asked what was bothering you." Megatron shifted, brushing the spike of one large shoulder-panel against Soundwave’s thinner one comfortingly. "Memories… your cassettes?" It wasn’t a guess, or at least it was a well-informed one. Memories of his cassettes disturbed Soundwave the most and Megatron knew it. 

Reluctantly at first, Soundwave leaned into the comfort, and finally allowed grief to cause his frame to sag and bow his helm. "Ravage." The recording crackled. Quickly, Soundwave compiled a visual of Prowl behaving eerily like his former cassette and the words Shockwave hadn’t heard him say, sending a data transfer request upon its completion. He tagged it as personal, not as an auxiliary component to the report. Not something meant for anyone else to see.

Megatron accepted the data without hesitation. Prowl's odd behavior only lasted a moment, so it was only a moment later that he placed his hand on Soundwave’s back, letting him choose how much of his comfort to accept. "I miss her too."

A brief shudder ran through Soundwave's frame and, again, he leaned slightly into the contact. Megatron's support helped him to collect himself. Knowing he wasn’t alone in remembering Ravage helped to dispel his fear that she would be forgotten, dead in thought as well as frame. He raised his helm. "Prisoner’s intent: unknown. Soundwave's reaction, predictable. But — predicted?" The difference was important, but he couldn't ask Shockwave to help clarify. After all, only Soundwave himself, with his telepathic ability, had actually observed Prowl in any other capacity than that of a wild mechanimal so far. 

"That is a question." Megatron allowed Soundwave to steer the conversation away from himself and towards the prisoner. Contrary to that verbal distance, he responded to Soundwave’s obvious desire for increased contact with a sort of half-embrace. "An important distinction. If your reaction was predicted then it means the words — and the corresponding behavior — were not random. That they were calculated to affect you. And if that is true, it indicates he is both intelligent and dangerous. If it was random however, and your reaction incidental…" He trailed off. "Unfortunately you are the only one of us who could possibly speak with any authority as to another mech's intentions. You didn't pick anything up?" 

"Impression — weakness. Prowl: found Soundwave… weak." And he had been, Soundwave was forced to admit. Whether intentional or not, Prowl's words and behavior had rattled him and it had taken time to regain his composure. Time he had lost observing Prowl's mind. "Assessment: thin plating. Physical. Mental. Soundwave: not a threat." 

That made Megatron frown. His thoughts turned a bit dark — he did not believe Soundwave weak, and there was a simmering protectiveness in his mind towards him. His initial reaction to the insult was violence, but he put the idea away fairly quickly, disgusted with himself for such thoughts about a prisoner he perceived as weak and not sane. "Only because he does not know you, friend." And to him it was that simple. Megatron knew Soundwave’s strength and thus concluded that Prowl's assessment was entirely a product of his insanity. 

The fierce protectiveness and confidence was bolstering, though Soundwave was able to recognize Megatron’s conclusion as potentially short sighted. The lack of externally observable intelligence in their prisoner made it too easy for even mechs as wise as Megatron to make biased judgements, and only getting something concrete would change that. 

"I had hoped that you would continue your efforts in regards to our prisoner, but if you will find it difficult, his assessment can be remanded entirely to Shockwave," Megatron offered.

"Consideration: appreciated, but unnecessary." Soundwave gently allowed his normally withdrawn EM field to uncurl, expressing his curiosity and determination and allowing his interest despite his reservations to show. "Soundwave: desires continued observation of subject. Wants to remain involved." Indeed, he feared if he did not, Shockwave's initial biases about Prowl’s intelligence would prevent him from being impartial and skew his assessment, whatever the scientist claimed.

"Of course, Soundwave," and Megatron was pleased, even as he continued to be concerned for his friend. "I will trust our prisoner's welfare entirely to your hands. Update me regularly."

"Affirmative. Next report, following introduction of second puzzle." Soundwave brought up the initial progress Shockwave had made on his mask, its reflection once again showing in the window. "Estimated completion time: tomorrow." 

Then he paused, considering how to frame his next request. He didn’t expect any difficulties, but it would be easier if Megatron told Knockout to assist them himself, rather than giving Soundwave permission to recruit him. "Shockwave's suggestion, attempt to secure safe conditions for medical scan. Knockout's involvement: necessary."

"Yes of course," Megatron's agreement was unhesitant. "Truthfully if it weren't for the prisoner’s attempted attack on Cliffjumper," his thoughts about the red mech were still conflicted in some ways, but he did regard the displaced Autobot as a firm, unquestioned ally, "medical care would have been already been provided, but Knockout is too valuable to risk. Poor mech." There was sympathy in his thoughts as he remembered the conditions in which they had originally found Prowl in what had been Ultra Magnus' quarters, locked in a crate barely big enough to allow the mech to move. He worried what the Autobot second in command might have done to the mech. "I trust you'll find a way."

Soundwave recalled Prowl's memory of Ultra Magnus bringing him energon. The crazed Autobot berserker had at least kept him fueled, though not overly well. Whatever other abuses he'd inflicted, or if he was the cause of Prowl's deteriorated mental condition, remained to be seen. "Knockout's security: primary concern." He wasn't entirely sure yet how they could guarantee that safety — Prowl was still too much of an unknown, too unpredictable, for him to have a concrete plan — but Shockwave would have some ideas. Together they would find a way. "Lord Megatron: convey the plan… to Knockout?"

"Yes. I will contact Knockout, though if I know our good doctor he is less concerned with his own safety than we are. That too, I am trusting to you, friend."

"Acknowledged."

That concluded the business Soundwave had come to discuss with his leader, but Megatron made no move to rush him out. Instead, he kept his arm where it was around Soundwave, letting him continue to lean on him for support as long as he needed.

Soundwave was grateful to Megatron for taking the time just to be with him, and especially for sharing in the silent memory of his lost cassettes. He knew he was harder on himself for how it affected him than Megatron was, and the reminder that Megatron didn't view it as a failing or think less of him helped. That faith and friendship always left Soundwave feeling inspired to do whatever he could to help his leader and their cause, and right now, that meant working to determine whether or not they had brought back a threat from the Autobot base in the form of their prisoner.

.

.

.

Soundwave’s stride was slow and purposeful. He would reach the brig long before he had an answer to any of his questions about Prowl, he knew, so there was no need to hurry. His attention was largely turned to the surveillance-scape he had spread across his visor, checking in on several things to ensure they were going smoothly as he made his way towards his destination.

"HEY!" The voice was instantly recognizable, not just due to the benefits of exquisite audio-recognition software, but also because it came from somewhere about the height of his shin-plate. "Soundwave right? I need to talk to you." Agent Fowler was obviously quite annoyed about something.

A camera on the surveillance-scape focused on the human before Soundwave’s own sensors did, reacting automatically as he shifted his attention. Fowler huffed impatiently before he could say anything. "I'm  _ talking  _ to you!"

That was something Soundwave had noticed in regards to Fowler. He exhibited more signs of impatience in dealing with Soundwave than he did with the other Decepticons — not that Soundwave interacted with him often. Starscream and Cliffjumper mostly took care of the duty of dealing with the human governments and their human liaison, but… he watched. It was Soundwave’s job to watch.

He wondered sometimes if it was a peculiarity to Fowler as an individual, or if there was something about him that set humans more on edge than his fellow Cybertronians as a whole. It didn’t matter, not really, but Soundwave couldn’t help being curious. Humans were both similar to and different enough from Cybertronians that observing them was an interesting exercise, though drawing accurate conclusions could be difficult. Megatron did his best to keep direct human contact to a minimum, which gave Soundwave few opportunities to indulge that curiosity. 

Now certainly wasn’t the time to dwell on it; not with the human already clearly impatient with him. It was impossible to keep walking while trying to address the agent’s concerns, which must be important if he’d come to speak with Soundwave directly when he usually would not. So Soundwave stopped carefully, turning his head toward Fowler to acknowledge him (a courtesy, since he was already looking at him via the security feeds). He carefully spliced his words together from his fellow Decepticons and layered a filter to smooth the transitions between clips. “Agent Fowler: has Soundwave’s attention.”

“I’m told that you De-cept-icons brought back a second enemy prisoner from the Autobot base.” Human thoughts were fuzzy and indistinct around the edges, but readable; something Soundwave had never expected, given the very different physical makeup of human brains versus Cybertronian processors. Yet Fowler’s thoughts were strong enough right now that they were fairly clear: he was annoyed — both at Cliffjumper and Soundwave himself — for having been sent to talk to Soundwave instead of his usual liaisons. He was uncomfortable, and that discomfort was amplifying his anger. “I need a report!”

Soundwave hesitated. Maintaining a positive relationship with the humans was important, but Lord Megatron had decreed (wisely, in Soundwave’s opinion) that they needed to limit the information they gave the humans regarding their activities as much as possible. That left him with a dilemma now: what would be enough to placate the alien, without revealing any more than absolutely necessary? The challenge in finding that balance appealed to Soundwave, even if talking with Fowler didn’t.

The Decepticons had been forced to compile a false debriefing to cover Orion’s amnesia. The fact that their lost comrade shared a frametype with the Autobot Prime had been suspicious — enough so that even now Fowler didn’t quite believe the coincidence — claiming amnesia on top of it would have stretched their credibility to breaking. Prowl though… The fact that this prisoner was in no state to answer questions, if he even had answers to give, was probably safe to impart to Fowler. There were codes of conduct regarding prisoners of war for humans as well, and explaining Prowl’s condition could have the added benefit of forestalling further questions from the human. Establishing Prowl’s damaged state would allow them to conceal any information he did provide if necessary.

Fowler noticed his pause. He didn’t say anything about it, but his annoyance spiked and he clearly thought that he wanted to be dealing with a  _ person _ and not a drone.

Soundwave felt a flicker of frustration of his own. Plenty of his fellow Decepticons assumed that his difficulty with speech meant that his mind was impaired. Soundwave and Starscream had agreed to capitalize on that particular fallacy when dealing with humans, and Fowler’s opinion was partly the result of that, but it was still annoying to be regarded as a drone. Was Fowler actually going to listen to him at all, or was he just here to say that he had tried, having already made up his mind that the conversation wouldn’t be productive?

“Affirmative: Autobot prisoner, recovered. Secured in the brig. Assurances: prisoner under constant surveillance.”

“Just  _ surveillance? _ You haven’t tried questioning him or anything? The Autobots are still  _ out there! _ ”  _ Wars aren’t fought this way, _ he thought, clearly frustrated with how the Decepticons were approaching the conflict. No Autobots had been killed since before the ships had crashed on Earth, and Fowler thought that the Decepticons shouldn’t be letting the enemy regroup when they had  _ several _ information sources available. But that  _ rescued Decepticon _ — his thoughts in regards to Orion’s recovery were both sarcastic and somewhat disbelieving — hadn’t had any information about the Autobots that the Decepticons didn’t have already. They should be milking (a strange metaphor) the  _ other _ prisoner, the one that was  _ definitely _ an Autobot, and finding out where those damn ‘Bots had scattered to so they could be killed… or at least kicked off his planet. 

Insultingly, he was wondering if maybe a  _ drone _ (Soundwave) wasn’t capable of figuring that out on his own.

Some of Fowler’s annoyance stemmed from being clearly ‘blown off’ by Cliffjumper. That the former Autobot was within his rights to kick the request up the chain of command (which Fowler didn’t perceive Soundwave as truly being a part of) given the situation, and that he had reasons to dislike thinking about Prowl, were both irrelevant to him. Any decent ‘defector’ shouldn’t be so squeamish dealing with information about a former comrade who was now a POW.

That way of thinking annoyed Soundwave. Cliffjumper’s reluctance to harm the mirror images of his friends was a  _ credit _ to his morals, not a reason for disdain; the former Autobot was adapting, and Soundwave found the amount of progress he’d made in such a short time to be impressive. Even if he wasn’t under orders not to reveal too much to Fowler, Soundwave wasn’t feeling very cooperative toward their human liaison at the moment and didn’t feel any guilt whatsoever about deceiving him. After all, for the moment it was completely true that Prowl wasn’t useful as a resource. If that changed in the future, what Fowler should be told could always be reevaluated. 

“I’m  _waiting,_ ”  _ you stupid piece of junk machine! _

Ouch. At least Fowler’s opinion of Soundwave as a drone rather than a sentient mech would help them here. Given his low opinion of Soundwave, Fowler would assume he wasn’t capable of the kind of complexity necessary for deceit.

“Distinction:  _ Autobot _ prisoner,” Soundwave clarified, knowing it wouldn’t make sense to the human, but needing to say something while he compiled a more coherent explanation. It was a shame that the unexpected similarity that allowed his telepathy to work with humans did not extend to sending and receiving data packets. That would have simplified things immensely.

“I  _ know _ that!” As he’d anticipated, Fowler very clearly didn’t understand. Soundwave  _ really _ wished humans could receive data packets.

“Prisoner: held captive  _ by _ the Autobots.” Soundwave forced the emphasis on the syllable by increasing the pitch it played back at. “Recovered,  _ rescued. _ Condition: unstable. Damaged.” He almost added ‘dangerous,’ but the humans would probably take that to mean that Prowl was a danger to them and become even more agitated, when what Soundwave meant was that Prowl was a potential danger to himself.

Not that he wasn’t possibly a danger to the planet’s inhabitants too, but that wasn’t something Fowler needed to know.

“Uh-huh.” The human was clearly skeptical. “You won’t mind if I take a look at this ‘rescued’ prisoner then will you?” He folded his arms across his chest, trying (and failing) to look down at the much larger Decepticon. “Just so I know what to tell my superiors about the situation up here.” He smirked. “In the interest in inter-species cooperation, of course.”

Showing Prowl to Fowler would certainly accomplish the goal of proving that he was in no condition to be interrogated. It was also possible that showing  _ Fowler _ to  _ Prowl _ would elicit new responses from the prisoner, though there was a risk of him saying something problematic. And it wouldn’t do to give Fowler the impression that he could bully them into doing what he wanted, either.

Soundwave considered his options. Fowler’s annoyance sparked to outright anger while he was forced to wait, though he didn’t actually  _ blame _ Soundwave for essentially being a mindless machine. Instead he was thinking about who needed to talk to in order to get around the obstructionist piece of crap robot. Starscream and Megatron should, he thought, be able to bypass the drone’s programming. “You know what? Fine. Let’s just look at the surveillance.”

Anger rose in Soundwave also. The irony that their feelings about the other’s usefulness so perfectly mirrored each other would have been more amusing if the human wasn’t being so insulting. It was an interesting approach for a liaison to take. While Soundwave couldn’t fault the human for thinking his private thoughts were his own, there was a fair amount of what he said out loud that was offensive to the mechs he was supposed to be building a relationship with, and the way he said those things made them particularly hard to ignore. 

Soundwave wondered again if Fowler’s aggressive approach was something shared by the rest of his species. Or was this another example of the human treating him differently, because he didn’t believe Soundwave understood such things? Either way, Fowler might not be actively trying to cause problems with what he said, but it still meant Soundwave had to put up with the insults. It left him without a lot of patience for dealing with the man. No matter how fascinating humans, in general, were.

Showing him the surveillance feed rather than taking him to the brig was a good solution though. Rather than pull it up directly on his visor, which he could have done easily (but was feeling just petty enough not to), Soundwave nodded and motioned for Fowler to follow him. He began walking at an exaggeratedly slow pace toward the monitor room. Fowler trailed at a close (safe) distance, by now used to keeping up with the large aliens. Cliffjumper, Soundwave had seen on his surveillance-scape, occasionally let the human ride in his alternate form, but the others he interacted with — mostly Starscream, who, though he was more than agile enough to do, was strictly forbidden from flying through the hallways of the  _ Victory _ — he had to walk alongside.

Reminded by his musings, Soundwave started preparing a message to Starscream to let him know that Fowler might be paying him a visit in the near future asking questions about Prowl, since the human considered it necessary to go around Soundwave to get ‘real’ answers. He would send it once Fowler inevitably decided he’d seen enough of the surveillance footage.

Soundwave opened the door to the monitor room when they reached it and stepped inside, seizing control of the equipment remotely to adjust several monitor feeds. Fowler didn’t understand Cybertronian, but he could read (with varying degrees of accuracy) frame-language, and Soundwave would just as well not let him see the Decepticons relaxing or, in the case of Skywarp, causing mischief and being completely not serious. If he was already angry about the lack of ‘results’, he’d probably take something like that as proof that the Decepticons were being lazy.

The truth was that while the Decepticons  _ could _ attempt to scour the planet’s surface for the Autobots’ new hideout, they could not do so without harming the human populations the Autobots and their vehicle alt modes could be hiding amongst. Therefore, the tactically sound option for them was to wait until the search for new sources of energon inevitably brought the Autobots out of hiding. The Decepticons were  _ not _ being lazy!

Fowler looked around curiously as he came inside, walking over to the temporary movable staircase designed to bring him up to the level of the screens (and keep him from being dangerously underfoot). He’d only rarely been in here and so was fascinated by the various views of the  _ Victory _ and its residents. He didn’t realize that Soundwave had taken control of the feeds and assumed the cameras showed everything they recorded… like most, he didn’t realize how much the ship’s surveillance and security systems were an extension of Soundwave himself. Unsurprising, given he thought of him as a drone.

“So where’s the brig feed?” he asked, much less aggressively than before.

Good. Fowler seemed somewhat placated. Raising a slender finger, Soundwave pointed up at a bank of screens showing several different views of the brig. Most of the cells were empty; there wasn't much to see in the majority of them. Stepping up to the console, Soundwave manually brought the views of the cell Prowl occupied up to a larger zoom so they could be seen more clearly, covering the other feeds. He ensured there was a microsecond delay between the real time data streaming to the console and what was actually displayed; more than enough for him to insert a loop if necessary or make other adjustments.

At the moment, Prowl was busy batting his toy (the cryptex) against the force field wall, letting it roll back, then batting it again. He had put more scratched grooves in the walls of the cell since the last time Soundwave had looked. Right now he looked more bored than animalistic, sitting upright and just absently swatting the box, then focusing his sensor panels at where it hit the force field, over and over.

Duplicating the feed from one of the cameras on the inside of his visor, Soundwave zoomed in to examine certain details in the cell more closely, leaving the external view unchanged for Fowler. The new scratches were deep and deliberate; not frantic, and not deep enough to be an attempt to escape. It looked like Prowl had been running his crude claws — more like sharpened fingertips — through the same grooves slowly over and over again.

Fowler grunted. He didn’t see anything that registered as dangerous to him. "There any sound?"

Soundwave increased the volume so the interference in the force field when the cryptex hit it was more audible.  _ Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing! Boing!  _ went the force field in time with the toy hitting it over and over. Prowl wasn't looking at the camera, or up from his game at all, but said in a mildly conversational tone (and in  _ English, _ where he had only spoken in Cybertronian so far), "It's not a squeaker; more of a grunker, right Soundwave?"

The delay Soundwave had introduced earlier allowed him to swap the live audio with a pre-recorded clip of Prowl mumbling softly in Cybertronian. Fowler needed to see that Prowl was not well, and showing nothing but silence would not serve that end. Revealing the mech's mastery of English and his uncanny choice of words, however, was unnecessary. The words in the replacement recording were barely intelligible even to those who spoke the language; Fowler, of course, could not understand it at all, and had no choice but to rely on the translated gibberish Soundwave put up on the screen.

“How long has he been at that?” Fowler asked after a moment, referring to the Praxan’s game of batting the toy against the force field. The answer (easily found by searching the footage for the timestamp when he started) was 63.2333 minutes — exactly 1,000 hits against the force field at the time of asking.  _ Boing!  _ 1,001 hits.  _ Boing! _ 1,002 hits.  _ Boing!  _ 1,003 hits.  _ Boing! _ 1,004.  _ Boing! _ 1,005. All at mathematically precise intervals of 3.74 seconds with no variation.

That level of precision was something that few mechs Soundwave knew of could match. Shockwave came to mind (though why he might engage in such an activity was difficult to conceive of), but no others. Soundwave put a counter with the start time in the corner of the screen for the human’s benefit, waiting for him to say something.

Meanwhile Prowl continued to speak, seemingly to the force field itself. “I’ve been observing this sound very carefully.”  _ Boing! _ “At first I thought It might squeak, since most forceshields do.”  _ Boing! _ “But you must be truly afraid I might escape through it after my first attempt,” _ Boing!  _ “because this is 63% stronger than is standard. You can tell by the sound.”  _ Boing! _ “See? Definitely more of a grunk.”

He was right, astonishingly, about the relative strengths of force fields and the sounds. It required very precise sensors to pick up the difference, and a detailed understanding of the barrier surrounding the cell. How had Prowl come by that knowledge? Was he testing the field deliberately, planning another attempt to break through?

Soundwave noted Prowl’s unnerving (and impressive) words in his ongoing file as an indicator of the mech's analytical ability and observational skill. He also added that Prowl must have a superior sensor suite, though that wasn't entirely unexpected. Soundwave knew Praxans generally had good sensors, even though they wouldn’t have Prowl’s exact specs until they managed to get a medical exam.

Fowler’s thoughts, unaware of what Prowl was really saying, were much less concerned. He seemed to be heading towards the desired conclusion about Prowl's impairment… but some unexpected observations and connections seemed to be forming in his mind.

One of those unexpected connections coalesced into a conclusion a microsecond before he voiced his next question. "You sure that's not an Autobot? His… what do you bots call it? Frametype looks more like Cliffjumper than the rest of you guys." The origin of the misunderstanding was clear in his thoughts. He knew there were no neutral factions in the war and the use of the word ‘recovered’ implied (to him) that this was another Decepticon who had been a prisoner of the Autobots.

It was also interesting to note that as he focused more on observing Prowl, and less on trying to get the ‘uncooperative drone’ to do what he wanted, the more he treated Soundwave like an intelligent being.

Reminding himself that Fowler, for all his limitations and shortcomings, was also an intelligent being, Soundwave 'spoke' again. "Origins: unknown. Not a Decepticon." An admission that would be unavoidable in the long run, though Soundwave wondered if Fowler's (correct) assumption that there were no neutrals would make him think that Soundwave was being elusive or obtuse again. For a moment Soundwave wished for a facility with words that would allow him to explain better that the divisions between their factions were not absolute between different classes, any more than the divisions he'd noted amongst different subsets of humans were absolutes.

Fowler’s eyes narrowed at the screen, trying to puzzle it out.  _ Not a Decepticon…  _ that meant an Autobot like Cliffjumper, except the Decepticons wouldn't have retrieved him if that was the case… "What do you know about him then?"

"Frame class, origin: former city of Praxus." Soundwave pulled up a basic frame scan in a small popup in the corner of the screen. "Functions: varied. Prisoner kept by Autobot command. Reasons: unknown."

The fact that they didn't know much wasn't incongruous with the surveillance the Decepticons had and would, with any luck, disguise the fact that they were uncertain how safe it was to hold Prowl at all. Fowler could occasionally be inconveniently perceptive, and while it wasn't a large distraction for Soundwave to be altering the audio feed for his benefit, he still had to process what Prowl was saying himself, which was… challenging, given the mech’s speech.

Prowl spoke again just then, as if to prove the point. “Right now you’re wondering if I am truly talking to you, or just to myself as you listen via the brig cameras. I ask: How could I not? You’re watching… Always watching Soundwave. Everything I say, in English or our Mother Tongue, whether it makes sense to your limited perspective or not… I am talking to you. Are you watching right now? How delightful! But the timing is only relevant if you assign meaning to something that may not have any…”

Layers of meaning and metaphor, his words sounded crazy while making a strange sort of sense. Not easy for Soundwave to listen to, and not just because it  _ did  _ feel as though Prowl was talking directly to him. It made the usually simple task of splitting processes difficult, as his thoughts kept spinning off in new tangent lines of inquiry.

Still oblivious, Fowler was busy reacting to what Soundwave had said. He shuddered, remembering the overview of the war that Megatron had shared with him when their alliance was first formed and he was assigned to the  _ Victory.  _ He hadn't fully internalized the rampant destruction or the confirmed kill counts of the Autobots. He believed, but he didn’t quite  _ believe. _ Humans didn’t always process numbers on that vast a scale very well. But Praxus did feature highly in what he remembered. He leaned forward to examine the frame scan in lieu of watching what was (to his view) Prowl's very uninteresting game on the screen. He was no engineer, but he he did examine the scan with keen perception.

“And," Prowl continued, still seemingly speaking to the force field, "you were always going to have to eventually show the little chaos-spawn this feed. Might as well be now, right? It’s logical.” He giggled to himself. “But you’re not going to let him see me speak. Not the truth. Not sure you can trust the good agent? What am I saying to him, I wonder? What words do you have coming out of my mouth? On this side of the mirror or the other, Agent Fowler’s reflection stays the same; the only difference in his fate-thread is the knot his has tied with yours. Your reflection is still you. Enemy on both sides of your reflection. Fate.”

It was fortunate that humans weren't sensitive enough to EM fields to read the disturbance in Soundwave's at that statement. Prowl was right — he could be talking to the camera at any time and Soundwave would eventually be listening. But knowing that Fowler would be watching the feed and that Soundwave would be altering what he showed him? That went far beyond noticing something on the other side of a force field.

“Too bad you didn’t find the others… Secrets and circles spin about, but because you are you, whatever your reflection, you can’t find the little chaos-spawn whose fates you could have changed. Torawo torunara torawo yori toriwo tore, toriwa otorini torawo tore, ne?”

Soundwave had no difficulty understanding the language, though how Prowl had come to know yet another human tongue was a mystery. “Instead of catching the tiger, catch a bird, and use the bird as bait to catch the tiger, am I right?” It was a Japanese tongue twister with an agreement-assumed question indicator added to the end. But what did Prowl mean by it? Soundwave found he couldn't resist his curiosity or the temptation to try testing something.

As Fowler examined the scan, Soundwave slipped a parable similar to the human phrase Prowl had quoted into the scrolling glyph-text on one of the monitors the agent couldn't read. He felt ridiculous as soon as he’d finished, but it was harmless. Who would even notice he'd done it…

Prowl cackled. "No. I can't read your mind, Soundwave."

Right about now it sure felt like he could. Soundwave caught himself running a check against psychic intrusions before even consciously queuing it up, but there was no foreign presence in his mind, only Laserbeak's comforting wisps of thought.  _ How  _ was Prowl doing this? 

Soundwave stopped trying to transcribe his observations directly into his report, reverting to simply logging the data to analyze later as he recognized that once again, his ability to be objective in the moment had been shaken.

Prowl cackled again.

Fowler didn't notice any of what was (or was maybe not) going on between the two mechs through Soundwave’s tampering. "This is just a general frametype, right?" He stabbed his finger at the display. "What's this one got that's unique? You guys don't like thinking about it much, but you are equipment. So what sort of equipment is he that Autobot command might want?"

It was odd to feel a sense of relief in talking to Fowler, but Soundwave did just then. He fixed more of his attention on the human and the man's thoughts to center himself and distract him from his own. "Medical evaluation, not yet performed. Specialized systems, not presently identified."

"So  _ sensitive _ ," Prowl said.

Fowler, of course, missed that. "Well, maybe when you find that out you'll know why the Autobots kept him." He turned back to the image of Prowl, who was still keeping up his game of knocking his toy against the force field while he laughed (at Soundwave, it felt like). His mind was conjuring up memories and knowledge of his own government's dealings with torture and its aftermath, mentally listing off what he thought was possibly affecting Prowl. PTSD and a mental retreat from reality were his primary conclusions. Soundwave caught glimpses of Fowler's  _ personal  _ memories of torture, but they were there and gone so fast that he (thankfully) didn't pick up any details.

"What's he saying now?" The question was almost absent, Fowler was still focused more on the idea — the certainty — that the enemy Autobots wouldn't have kept Prowl alive so long if he didn't have a use.

Frankly, Soundwave was in complete agreement. Given what Cliffjumper had told them, and what Prowl had revealed so far, he was willing to bet that whatever that use was, it had been extremely effective. With any luck, the Autobots wouldn't be faring as well without it, though the tradeoff of having Prowl in their brig, an unknown threat, was one that Soundwave really wished he had the data to evaluate more accurately. Orion was complication enough on his own for the Decepticons; Prowl was an extra burden they hadn’t counted on bearing.

“Vocalizations: mostly laughter. Nonsense.” The English subtitles at the bottom of the screen transcribing the pre-recorded mumbling had sections where words that couldn't be made out even in Cybertronian were replaced with [indiscernible]; the rest was onomatopoeic laughter and disjointed sentences, mostly about energon.

"Energon… that's food for you lot, right?"

"Affirmative."

Fowler touched the screen, tapping the scrolling word ‘energon’ several times as it moved by. "Has he tried hoarding what you feed him? Or is that not something you lot do after starving for awhile?" Humans, according to the accompanying thought, so often engaged in food hoarding after an experience with starving that it was almost considered a sign of greater mental illness if they didn't.

Soundwave zoomed in on the feed to highlight the cubes left from previous rations Prowl. "Rations, consumed. Cubes, retained. Possible use: future storage." They were only thing Prowl had hoarded so far, though he had shredded some of them to add to his nest rather than keeping them all intact.

"Then if he’s being fed, why the obsession with food?" This time Fowler was talking more to himself than to Soundwave, musing out loud. Soundwave didn't bother to point out that just because the Decepticons were feeding Prowl, and feeding him regularly, it did not follow that the Autobots had done so. In fact, it was almost certain they had not, withholding fuel to get what they wanted from him. That would probably make the lack of energon hoarding even more confusing for the human, but while stockpiling  _ did  _ in fact occur amongst Cybertronian starvation victims, there was a reason it wasn’t a universal reaction. Storing fuel in the wilds of Cybertron wasn’t safe: an energon cache could attract any number of unpleasant scavengers that would have to be fought off, and could easily become contaminated. Any starving mech, stealing or cannibalizing other mechs for fuel, wouldn't have any way to filter for VAC or other lethal compounds, so Prowl’s survival protocols, like those of many of the Decepticons, might be set to view hoarding as more dangerous than beneficial.

Prowl, meanwhile, had started a rhyme during their exchange. "Ladybug! Ladybug! Fly away home. Your house is on fire…"

When  _ had  _ Ultra Magnus picked him up? Perhaps pinpointing that would give them another insight into their prisoner, in addition to figuring out what he had been used for. Soundwave decided he needed to talk to Cliffjumper.  _ He _ had been certain that the crazed, clearly insane wreck of a mech was also extremely dangerous.

After a moment of silence from Soundwave and what he was showing him of Prowl's mutterings, Fowler sighed. "I think I've seen enough for now."

"…and your children all gone. All except one… and that's Ann. For she has crept under the frying pan!" Which seemed to be the most hilarious thing in the world, because Prowl burst out laughing again. "Because that would kill a ladybug, right Soundwave?"

Soundwave shunted the comparison of his own children to those in the rhyme to the back of his processor. He'd deal with it later. "Understood," he told Fowler. "Observation: will continue. Changes in behavior: will be noted." Whether those changes would be relayed to the human liason, well… that would be on a case-by-case basis. For now, Fowler believed Prowl too impaired to answer questions, just like they wanted him to. His thoughts were even leaning more towards ‘torture-induced PTSD’ than ‘creepy and insane’, which would be the easiest assumption to use and manipulate later.

"Are we done here Soundwave?" Prowl crooned. "I know one about a kitty cat! Three little kittens, they lost their mittens…"

Fowler absently nodded in thanks, though he didn't voice it. He occasionally reacted to Soundwave unconsciously as though he was just another Decepticon (like when he was distracted, as now), even while consciously thinking that there was no need to thank a drone.

"…And they began to cry, Oh mother dear, We sadly fear…"

Dealing with Fowler had also turned out to be extremely valuable in terms of gathering more information about Prowl. This time, Soundwave had recorded evidence of the intelligent thought and advanced thinking that he had only picked up telepathic traces of before. Evidence that could be shared with the other Decepticons.

"…Our mittens we have lost!"

Fowler left the observation room. He had been among them long enough to know his way around most of public portions of the ship. Soundwave 'heard' he was going to write up his report, not to immediately harass Starscream for further access to Prowl, and his thoughts were already turning to the exact wording of what he was going to tell his superiors.

"What! Lost your mittens, You naughty kittens, Then you shall have no pie…"

With Fowler not planning to bother Starscream now, Soundwave saved his memo to the SIC for later without sending it as well.

"…Meow, meow. Then you shall have no pie! No pie! Soundwave!"

A quick search turned up the rhyme Prowl was quoting now and Soundwave tried to log it as mere data. While the loss of each of his symbiotes had been devastating, Ravage had been special. Soundwave wondered if the next rhyme would be a reference to the twins, or if, with Fowler gone, Prowl would cease talking to him and lapse into silence. Of course, if he was talking without actually being aware of when Soundwave would be watching, Fowler leaving would make no difference whatsoever.

With a chuckle, Prowl did neither. Instead he moved onto saying something else, “Riddle me, riddle me, ree… A little mech in a cage… what does he see… can he see me? If you tell me this riddle, I’ll give you a glimpse of what  _ you _ cannot see: How does it end? Finish it for me: The itty bitty scraplet crawled into a furnace…?”

He cocked his head, dull red chevron tilting dramatically. Listening or waiting.

“…and died,” Soundwave whispered, remembering Rumble, smelted down and gone; Frenzy grey and empty without his brother’s ember there to bank his own against the cold.

Prowl cackled, falling over in his mirth and for the first time since Soundwave started watching abandoned his game of batting the cryptex against the force field. He curled up on himself in his mirth, doorwings twitching in time with his chuckles long after his audible laughter faded.

Soundwave shook his helm slightly, extending a data cable to link into the surveillance system over a hard connection. He diverted a large portion of his processor to checking over other ongoing processes and functions, using the routine of work to begin settling his processor to the point where he could address what he’d just heard. Part of his attention remained on Prowl where he laid, watching the silent laughter he still felt was directed at him.

Eventually the laughter faded and Prowl’s frame settled into a near-recharge state. Absently (unconsciously?) he reached out to grab the cryptex and pulled it in where he could protect it even in sleep, rearranging himself around it and somehow managing to drape a mesh scrap from his nest over a wing-joint in the process. “A promise is a promise…” he murmured, vocalizer a bit wiggly with impending recharge, “The right answer, if for the wrong reason. When you’re ready… I’ll give you your answer in exchange.”

The benefit of not doing real-time analysis as he was listening to Prowl and just logging the data was that it gave Soundwave something of a buffer to deal with his own reactions. The downside was that it meant he still needed to go over the data later, when he was better able to be objective, even skeptical. He compiled a series of lists with evidence of Prowl's intelligence in one, the dangers he might present in another, etc.

He then took it a step further. Soundwave spent a lot of time managing information and mechs; he had different sets of 'books', the humans might say — a set to show to Shockwave, another version for Megatron, and one more still not meant for anyone but himself. It was more about considering things from their perspectives and showing them what they would find relevant more than it was about hiding anything…though there were certain, personal elements that didn't make it further than his own master copy. Not yet. Not now.

The reports took time to compose; Soundwave sent Laserbeak to handle delivering Prowl's evening ration so he could continue to work on them. A reasonable enough explanation, if anyone asked (unlikely), and it neatly avoided the fact that he really wanted to collect himself a little better before confronting Prowl again himself. He didn't want to appear weak again in front of him, if he could help it.

He did still check in through his symbiote's optics while she was there, and periodically with the brig's security feed throughout the night as well. Prowl had continued his usual behavior, being non-responsive to anything outside his cell while curled up in his nest. He ignored everything but the energon cube when Laserbeak delivered it, taking it back to his nest where it vanished behind his wings once he retrieved it. Whatever he did with it, the cameras weren't in a position to see.

Tired, bored, secretive, all or none of the above… without being present to check on Prowl's mental state telepathically, Soundwave couldn't guess at his motives. He couldn't spend all of his time in the brig though. Prowl might be the most important and potentially problematic thing on his processor right now, be he was hardly Soundwave's only responsibility. Remote surveillance would have to be enough… for now.


	4. Chapter 3

Cliffjumper, even after everything they’d been through together by now, wasn’t perfectly comfortable among the Decepticons. He no longer engaged weapons when he turned a corner and came face to face with Shockwave, or caught a glimpse of seekers’ wings, but the first knee-jerk thought in his processor was still ‘enemy’ in any given encounter. He avoided Shockwave and Soundwave especially, and despite his growing rapport with Starscream, the sight of the second in command still conjured up images of torture at the hands of a dark, treacherous version of the seeker. Perhaps it always would. 

Soundwave knew, in a way the others weren’t capable of grasping, that there was less of a difference between those dark reflections Cliffjumper remembered and the mechs in his current reality than any of them would wish. Starscream, dark or light, was still Starscream. Megatron, gold or grey, was Megatron.

The whole line of thought was profoundly disturbing. From the displaced Autobot’s memories, the Autobots themselves were more changed than their Decepticon counterparts, and even them less so than Soundwave would wish. Jazz, when Cliffjumper encountered him in the Rust Sea, had been almost exactly as the red Autobot remembered his occasional commander being when on a mission. Cliffjumper had started mentally manufacturing differences between the two sets of Autobots in an effort to acclimate. He still occasionally hesitated to shoot (especially Arcee), but he was steadfastly repulsed by their lack of morals.

On Cybertron there had been a camera (several, hidden) in his assigned quarters. Out of distrust, at first, but as time had gone on and evidence of his character had accumulated, something like assurance had Soundwave ceasing the constant monitoring, and new cameras had never been installed on the  _ Victory,  _ with Megatron’s approval. Soundwave’s telepathic abilities confirmed it wasn’t necessary: Cliffjumper —  _ this _ Cliffjumper — did not have the cruelty or malice that had characterized his counterpart. Further, his impulsiveness was spark-deep, only occasionally overridden by Jazz’s (even thinking the name made Soundwave shiver, though Cliffjumper’s seemed to be a cheerful daredevil of a SpecOps agent who’d never once harmed a civilian and after hundreds of vorns still had nightmares about killing Decepticons) training in scouting operations. Cliffjumper was a melee warrior with scout training, not a spy. He was as loyal as their circumstances could possibly allow, and every encounter he’d had with the Autobots only cemented that loyalty. 

So despite his difficulties acclimating, Cliffjumper did his best not to cause trouble. There had been incidents, near-misses where he’d obviously tried drawing locked weapons on various Decepticons, but in each case the Decepticon in question had admitted to provoking the response, mostly inadvertently. And in light of Cliffjumper’s no longer hidden ability to counter-hack the weapon blocks, it was obvious he had left them in place as a form of self-policing, knowing he’d react… rashly, to being startled or reminded of something unpleasant. Though given his difficulties, he spent a lot of time in his quarters aboard the  _ Victory, _ and had a tendency to keep his back to the walls when out and about. 

It just so happened that he wasn’t in his quarters when Soundwave set out to find him this time. A glance through his surveillance-scape found Cliffjumper at the shooting range, practicing. The training sim was a vigorous one and Soundwave watched his progress with it as he made his way there. The simulated opponents were set to a reasonable safety setting — the weapons would sting if they connected, but not injure or impair — but the number of opponents and their programmed skill was indicative of someone who wanted to be challenged. Given what Soundwave knew of how Cliffjumper fought — by instinct and metal-memory, rather than forethought — it probably even indicated someone trying to bury the ability to think beneath the simulated danger.

Soundwave knew there was no good way to enter the room, but he wanted to avoid startling Cliffjumper as much as possible. He consciously made his footsteps louder and pinged the simulator to announce his arrival, then hung back to give the mech space.

Now that he was in the same room with him, Soundwave could sense Cliffjumper’s mental state as he must have been in battle. He didn’t think, just reacted; not unlike his counterpart, though that mech had always held back at least some thoughts for impressing and/or outdoing Arcee in viciousness and cruelty. Still, despite his battle-systems, Cliffjumper’s mind had a calming influence on Soundwave. Riding along with him was almost meditative…

He might have stayed like that for a long time — loath as he was to interrupt both of their mental peace — but after a breem or so the last enemy (a sort of strange, clone-like transformer, painted in Autobot-like colors) fell, turning to pixels, and Cliffjumper didn’t start another round. He had reprogrammed enough of his thoughts that his systems recognized the telepath as an ally rather than another enemy in the sim, and he turned to face Soundwave calmly, transforming his weapon back into his arm.

“Sir?”

Soundwave stepped forward a few steps after being acknowledged, bringing the security feed from the brig up on his mask to display Prowl, curled up in his cell, for Cliffjumper to see. “Soundwave: wishes to discuss.” The voice clips he used were varied, but none of them contained Cliffjumper’s own words. Soundwave had purged what sound bites he had of the original Cliffjumper just after they had found this version, and had yet to incorporate his voice into his normal collection of clips to draw from. “More information, needed.” 

Uneasiness threaded through Cliffjumper’s mind. “Prowl?” he asked, knowing there wasn’t another prisoner Soundwave could be asking about, but harboring an irrational hope that his questions would be about someone else.

The image of Prowl displayed on Soundwave’s visor flickered in affirmation. “Subject matter: difficult. Soundwave: understands. However — accurate assessment, impossible without complete data.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Soundwave felt badly about Cliffjumper’s uneasiness and his part in bringing it up, but it was precisely that uneasiness that Soundwave needed to investigate further. He needed to know if it was simply an extension of the Autobot’s displacement and seeing something that he recognized-didn’t-recognize, or if there was something the Decepticons needed to be aware of as a legitimate threat.

He turned back to the door and began making his way to the monitor room, pausing only long enough to ensure Cliffjumper was following him. “Come.”

Cliffjumper wordlessly followed. He was still creeped out by Soundwave, but he obeyed. It was that Soundwave was very similar to the  _ other  _ one, the one he knew from spy footage and propaganda material and the occasional clash in combat that fueled that discomfort. Soundwave was — in his mind at least — one of the most similar to his counterpart.

Rumors that Soundwave was telepathic existed on either side of the veil, and Cliffjumper had heard them in both worlds. He gave more credence to the possibility now than he once had, since the Decepticons were in a position to know more about their own commander/comrade than the Autobots back home were, but he didn't  _ know. _ The only one he would take it as fact, not hearsay, from was Starscream, who considered that information Classified unless told otherwise (and it had been decided it was need-to-know for Cliffjumper, and that he didn't yet need to know).

Of course, he would consider it fact, not rumor, if Megatron or Soundwave himself confirmed it too, but Cliffjumper tried not to be in a position to talk to either of them unless it was necessary. That was fairly easy, given how busy both officers were. They had no problem letting Starscream be the one to talk with him since Cliff responded better to him, and in general Soundwave was more comfortable letting the more extroverted seeker handle such interpersonal duties anyway.

In this case, however, Soundwave needed to hear about Prowl directly from Cliffjumper without filtering from anyone else. That, and anyone else would miss what he could pick up that Cliffjumper might not actually say out loud. Which really would only justify Cliff being creeped out, had he known that was what Soundwave intended, even if he only planned to listen for surface thoughts rather than probing into Cliffjumper’s mind.

It was reminiscent of what he had done the previous day with Fowler, bringing Cliffjumper into the monitor room and focusing on the various feeds from the brig. Unlike before, however, Soundwave didn't edit what was being shown — not that there was much to see at the moment.

Prowl was just curled up in his nest, wing draped protectively over his still-sealed cryptex. He didn't seem to be recharging, but also wasn't doing anything else. His doorwings twitched, as though focusing on some sound or vibration beyond the wall, when Cliffjumper entered the monitor room, but otherwise he was perfectly still.

Cliffjumper's optics slid over Prowl's image — trying not to see — before he allowed himself to focus, examining the feeds from the rest of the ship. He had a scout's eye for patterns, and within a klik he had figured out a way to sneak through the corridors of the  _ Victory  _ based on the security footage. Innate talent, not just training. Probably the reason he had been trained, despite the impulsiveness that was very much in keeping with his name. Trusting both to the alliance between them and to the fact that not every possible surveillance angle was currently displayed for Cliffjumper to learn his way around, Soundwave didn't mind letting him look. 

Considering the main topic at hand, Soundwave decided to open with the simplest questions, what were hopefully the least personal ones. He brought up the same basic frame model he had shown the human agent before, intoning, "Baseline for frametype," as the image resolved on the screen. "Prowl: known upgrades? Modifications?"

"Classified," was Cliff's immediate answer. "J… Jazz," he consciously decided to say the name, rather than refraining as he'd tried to do since joining the ranks, believing (probably correctly) that this was a conversation where he wouldn't be able to dance around the proper nouns, "would have known for sure, but it was above my pay grade. All I have is… Autobot scuttlebutt." He paused, not sure Soundwave wanted a rundown on what amounted to hearsay.

"Rumor: still useful," Soundwave told him, knowing that even if Cliffjumper had been carrying a full diagnostic readout on the mech, it still wouldn't be definitive for what  _ this _ version of Prowl might be equipped with. But it was better than nothing, a good place to start, and it would give Knockout a list of things to look for once he was able to examine him, at least. "Abilities indicative of certain systems, even unconfirmed: also useful. Continue."

Cliffjumper nodded to indicate he understood. "Everything about Prowl's specs and files were classified, especially anything that might indicate how he did what he did. There were all sorts of conflicting rumors among the rank and file though, from actually working with Megatron — which was stupid because if Prowl was a traitor we were all dead — to having sold his spark to Unicron. And everything in between. The most credible rumor was that he was designed for large-scale combat tactics.

"He… he gave us our orders in combat. Not me, personally; not high enough ranked, but my unit commander. 'Defend this', 'take this objective', 'hit the formation here', 'this mech is a priority target', 'advance now', 'retreat'. That sort of thing. So designed for combat tactics seemed reasonable. No one knows why anyone would have made a combat-tactician before the War though. Not one with Prowl's abilities. I  _ can  _ confirm he did mission planning for Jazz's SpecOps division though."

That was a terrifying thought. "Abilities: superior?" Soundwave asked, though Cliffjumper had essentially already confirmed that. "Secondary tacticians: inferior?" There was still a question of degrees, of how much better Prowl had been, though again, Soundwave was almost certain of the answer already. A mech wouldn't have been promoted to his position or put in charge of such things without the skill to back it up.

The question confused Cliffjumper though. "Superior to what, Sir?" The source of his confusion was difficult to grasp but was there in his mind: the Autobots might have had other tacticians, but no others that Jazz would work with. Prowl hadn't just been the primary tactician for as long as Cliffjumper had been aware that there was such a thing as a tactician, but had also been personally involved via comms in every battle he could remember hearing about. There was, in Cliffjumper's mind, nothing to compare Prowl to. He wasn't  _ an _ Autobot tactician; except for a few others who picked up when Prowl was asleep or injured, he was  _ the _ Autobot tactician.

That more than answered Soundwave's question, and spoke even more to the mech's capabilities than a list of mods or upgrades would have (Prowl was the only mech  _ Jazz _ had been willing to work with?!). But Soundwave needed Cliffjumper to give him an answer out loud, not just think it, or at least say something that could be taken as an answer before moving on without having the apparent change of subject seem completely incongruous. "Superior to other Autobots. Replacing him would be — difficult? Crippling?"

Cliffjumper thought maybe Prime and the others on Earth could manage; there weren't that many of them there and unless a lot more Autobots showed up the War would be more like a series of skirmishes than a collection of full-scale battles… he hoped. "Jazz said Prowl kept us all alive. I'm no tactician so I can't confirm the truth of that. Classified." But there was an accompanying memory of the aftermath of some disaster Cliffjumper hadn't been privy too: he'd reported for a scheduled training session with the rest of the SpecOps Scouts and instead found Jazz, intoxicated and trying to deal with whatever had just happened. Jazz had cancelled the session with the other scouts, but had been too drunk to remember to CC the message to Cliffjumper. Jazz had said a lot of things that night, but that had been all he'd been willing to say about Prowl.

"Understood." Soundwave dismissed the diagram and brought up the recordings he'd taken of Prowl's first attempts with the cryptex. "Capacity for complex thought, analysis: undetermined. State of processor: unknown. However — capacity for coherent speech, observed." The second statement was accompanied by the clip of Prowl's initial reaction to Cliffjumper. "Impressions?  _ Differences?" _ He hoped Cliffjumper wouldn't be too reticent to offer an opinion, despite his unease with both who he was talking to and about. Once again, even if Cliffjumper didn't have a lot to say, Soundwave wanted to hear it. He had a unique perspective on the situation, after all.

Cliffjumper cringed when the original encounter between him and Prowl played, to the point that he tried but couldn't watch it all the way through. Immediately Soundwave saw why in his thoughts: he had seen Prowl in person — working with Jazz's SpecOps, the mech had occasionally run briefings — and the mech in the cell was as different from the one he knew as apples and iron filings. That mech, the one that existed in Cliffjumper's memories, was poised and in-control. His paint was perfect black and white, crisp lines and glossy finish without a single scratch. It was the most extreme difference Soundwave had seen between a given mech and the corresponding one in Cliffjumper's timeline. "He wasn't like that. He was… calm. Cold even. Not like you or Shockwave but… " Cliff trailed off, unable to find further words. 

Soundwave could see what he was trying to say. The Prowl in Cliffjumper’s memory was… always at attention. He moved at all times like he was the Perfect Commanding Officer and that mask never once wavered. He wasn’t still like Soundwave or lacking in frame-language like Shockwave, because he paced and occasionally gestured, both with his hands and door-panels, but those movements were controlled and deliberate. No wasted energy or effort. They were intended to help illustrate his points, and they did, but no more. Control. The sort that was hard-won and required constant effort to maintain.

"He wasn't what I was expecting, Sir, of Prowl in this world," Cliffjumper managed at last.

"Degree of difference: larger, with Prowl," Soundwave said for him by way of summary. "Some things… significantly different." There were many things that could explain why a mech who held himself to such strict standards might act the way Prowl was now, and starvation, captivity and torture were right up there on the list. The problem was that Cliffjumper wouldn't know any more than Soundwave did what this Prowl had been like before Ultra Magnus had gotten hold of him, nor what he'd done to him. He wasn't likely to be able to comment on the other Prowl's responses to similar situations, either. If he'd even been subject to them; Cliffjumper wouldn't have been privy to that information.

It was profoundly discomfiting to Cliffjumper to be forced to admit that these Autobots weren't all that different from the ones he remembered. He had latched onto and exaggerated every difference that did exist in his efforts to see them as different mechs — mechs who wouldn't respond to reason, mechs he had to be prepared to shoot and potentially kill — but, "Yes," he finally acknowledged, as though the word had been dragged from him.

Soundwave turned away from Cliffjumper to regard the screens, though of course it was only an illusion that he was no longer watching him despite no longer looking directly at him. Cliffjumper's optics flickered to the nearest camera, meeting Soundwave's gaze through the feed — it was one of the reasons he was uncomfortable with Soundwave. He was aware, as many of his fellow Decepticons weren't, how integrated Soundwave was with the surveillance systems. Only for Cliffjumper, that knowledge came from the harsh reality of knowing that a scout that was spotted on camera was as good as caught. It had been drilled into him, time and time again, both in training and the few times he was caught, that someone — Soundwave — was always watching. It was refreshing, in a way, to have someone who remembered that. Of course, it was more useful to have mechs forget how aware of everything Soundwave actually was, but it was another mark in Cliffjumper's favor for his intelligence and his training, and lent even more weight and credibility to his observations, secondhand though many of them were.

"Prowl: unknown entity to Decepticons," Soundwave offered; an effort to express the necessity of talking to Cliffjumper, but not an apology. The reality wasn't pleasant, but it couldn't be ignored. Too much was at stake. "Unknown. Unpredictable. Query: dangerous?"

"I don't know. If he were more like my Prowl I'd say yes, without question. He didn't see the front lines often, but often enough." Again Cliff was thinking more of rumors than fact:  _ we never did catch all the assassins. _ Jazz logged them, but he didn't catch all of them. And there was that bounty Megatron had out on him…

Soundwave wondered if Prowl’s current condition was ironic and permanent, with only moments of creepy, astute lucidity, or if the mech’s condition would improve. Cliffjumper’s information and thoughts implied the latter would not be a good thing. If Knockout said there was hope for Prowl’s mental state, then that was potentially worrying, even if improvement might make Prowl capable of being reasoned with. Though Soundwave wasn’t optimistic about their chances of that just now. Not without more information, and getting meaningful data was problematic. Soundwave was personally interested in potentially reasoning with Prowl, if it was ever possible, but he was supposed to be working out a risk assessment, and that had time constraints.

Soundwave nodded to himself, confirming visually for Cliffjumper that his answer regarding Prowl being dangerous or not was sufficient. "Full threat assessment: not possible at this time. More data, required."

"Sure." Cliff edged just a tiiiiiiiny bit towards the door. He hadn't been dismissed, and had no real intention to leave until he was, but… well, Cliffjumper  _ reacted, _ and right now he was reacting to being watched via the camera.

Having established that there wasn't a whole lot that Cliffjumper could tell him specifically about Prowl, though he did have a few good things to have Knockout look into now, Soundwave debated whether to let him leave or show him the real footage from his session with Fowler. He wouldn't be as close to what Prowl had said emotionally as Soundwave, and overall Cliffjumper did have a much less superstitious mindset than the Decepticons. Perhaps he would be able to rationalize the words better than Soundwave could; if nothing else, a second outside opinion would help him pinpoint where his own biases were.

"Soundwave: will consult multiple sources. Shockwave. Knockout." He paused, then, deciding, brought up the footage from when Agent Fowler had requested to watch the brig feed — the unedited footage. Queueing it to the beginning, where Prowl had begun speaking over his repetitive bouncing of the puzzle, Soundwave turned to face Cliffjumper directly once more. "Surveillance recording: taken yesterday. Cliffjumper, will review. Impressions, opinions: important. Unique perspective — useful."

Cliffjumper shrugged. He wasn't a security mech, but that sounded reasonable to him.

Soundwave decided to play both the feed from the surveillance room with himself and Fowler and the cell. What Prowl was saying was what he really wanted Cliffjumper to see, but he was also curious if Cliffjumper would note the synchronicity of the timing between what Prowl was saying and things he shouldn't have been able to know or see.

Cliffjumper was at first more surprised by Prowl's lucidity than his initial comments about the force field or about his talking to Soundwave via the camera feed. He was not surprised Prowl analysed the barrier as he did. Prowl directly mentioning showing the footage to the ‘chaos spawn’ did surprise him, but then he narrowed his optics. He was creeped out, and his first impulse was to shoot something — a very Autobot impulse, Soundwave thought automatically, though it was almost shameful to think that about an ally — but he was trying to work through it. Soundwave caught fleeting mental recitations of several prayers to Primus for calm and clarity of thought before Cliffjumper shrugged. "You have to admit, by saying what he did, he's practically guaranteed you'd show that footage to multiple mechs… self fulfilling prophecy… and if one of them was Fowler, again, it's practically a sure thing you wouldn't show what he's really saying."

"Agreed. Accuracy, a factor of probabilities. Likely." Soundwave had known that, but hearing someone else come to the same conclusion was reassuring. Reviewing the tape with someone who had no context for the personal remarks Prowl was making (well, not much context; he had shared stories of his cassettes with Cliffjumper, but Soundwave was willing to bet he hadn't internalized them) was already helpful, regardless of what Cliffjumper actually said. It forced his own thoughts to be more rational.

When Prowl started reciting the poems and such, Cliff's only thoughts were that anyone who knew Soundwave at all — Autobot or Decepticon — knew his cassettes were a sore spot and could guess how to poke at that wound. He was more worried as to how this Prowl might have known the human nursery rhymes… but then corrected himself. He didn't know how much access Prowl had to the humans' internet as an Autobot prisoner. He said none of those things out loud, however. All he said was, "I've seen a lot of weird slag since I got tossed through that wonky space bridge… Prowl being psychic explains how he predicted Decepticon battle plans in my world as well as it explains that," he pointed aggressively at the image of the grey mech, "but there might be explanations other than telepathy."

"Other explanations: need to be considered. Telepathy — extremely rare." Soundwave would know, and as a telepath himself, what he had seen in Prowl's mind did not quite fit with that explanation. Of course, there was no way to show Cliffjumper what he'd seen/heard/felt from Prowl to get his thoughts on what else it could be without revealing his own gift, and the situation wasn't yet serious enough to warrant that.

"I'm sure it is," Cliffjumper muttered, unable to avoid wondering again about Soundwave's potential abilities. In moments like this, when actually discussing telepathy, he found it hard not to believe the rumors.

Leaving Cliffjumper to continue to draw his own conclusions without confirming (or denying) anything, Soundwave considered Prowl and what else might explain the strange coincidence. "Telepathy, not discounted. Given discussion of tactical abilities: advanced processing, battle planning — statistical analysis, possible explanation?" It was hard to extrapolate based on a single instance, of course, but at the moment it was all they had.

Cliffjumper made an engine-sound of frustration. "Slag, I don't know. I'm not a tactician. Mine was a slagging good one, but this one…? I haven't a slagging clue how accurate that sort of predictive software might be, or what sort of effects being slagging crazy might have on it…  _ if  _ this one even has that sort of thing." Another mental prayer ran through his head, useful as a sort of calming meditation if not as an invocation of any divine entities. "Sorry, Sir, but I really don't know."

"Soundwave: understands. Appreciates. Discussion, in this case: more helpful than concrete answers." To that end, he considered his next words. Leading questions wouldn't serve the purpose of considering alternatives. Recalling what Prowl had said to Cliffjumper when they first met, Soundwave asked, "Prowl: spoke of gods. Query: Cliffjumper knows, which gods?"

“I’ve been trying not to think about that,” Cliffjumper muttered, supremely uncomfortable. He was keenly remembering everything that had happened in this world so far in regards to his gods, from their names being unknown, to their names disappearing from print as soon as they were written, to the insanity that was their recent experience with this ‘Anti-Energon’ — Dark Energon — and the awakening of the being at Earth’s core. “I only know the two, Sir. I can’t think of any others he’d be referring to. But he shouldn’t be, anymore than you could have before I got here.”

That was the fundamental problem at the root of all Soundwave’s uncertainties and curiosities about Prowl: he didn’t know how the mech knew what he knew. Some of the things that he demonstrated knowledge of, he had no way of knowing… at least, no way that Soundwave could see. “Prowl, source of knowledge: troubling.” 

“Can’t disagree with you there, Sir.”

Soundwave paused the feed, staring for a moment at Prowl’s face. He knew it wasn’t possible for the image to be watching back, but it still felt like the mech was staring right at him. “Surveillance will continue. Possibility: have Cliffjumper — attempt communication again.” Testing Prowl’s reactions to different things was still their best bet for learning more about him, and Soundwave had not been present in person when the two had met before. He knew Cliffjumper would not care for the idea, but Prowl had already proven to respond to him, and Soundwave wanted to be able to see Prowl’s mental reactions to the Autobot, not just his verbal and physical ones. “Pending Shockwave’s experiments,” he tacked on, not wanting Cliffjumper to think he meant to take him to see Prowl now.

“Experiments…?” The thought, reflexive as Cliffjumper’s sometimes still unpredictable combat reflexes and for the same reason, that Shockwave’s ‘experiments’ were generally cruel flashed through his processor. Affronts to life, dignity and the natural order of things had been Jazz’s comment. But the mech shook away that thought with a mental reminder not to jump to conclusions. This was the  _ nice _ Shockwave. The  _ yellow _ one.

Soundwave zoomed the camera in to focus on the cryptex. “Shockwave: devised intelligence test. Challenge: solve puzzle. Retrieve energon.” Hardly a cruel experiment, and even if they did go ahead with limiting Prowl’s rations to try to encourage him to solve the puzzle, they weren’t going to starve him.

Cliffjumper had already been trying to consciously relax —  _ nice Shockwave nice Shockwave nice Shockwave _ — and he relaxed further at the explanation. “Yeah. That makes sense. Thanks for explaining.”

Soundwave nodded in acknowledgement. “Soundwave: should check on Shockwave’s progress.” That and working out how to make giving a medical exam possible were his next priorities as far as Prowl went. There was no point in keeping Cliffjumper further; he would call him again if he needed him. “Cliffjumper’s insights: appreciated. Dismissed.”

Cliffjumper saluted and scooted out the door. His last thought was about going back to the combat simulator where he could do some more not-thinking for a while.

Knockout yelled over comms almost before Cliffjumper was out the door. "SOUNDWAVE!"

Soundwave managed not to flinch visibly, but it was a close thing, given the volume and the unexpected timing of the call. He sent an acknowledgement down the line to the doctor that he was listening.

_ "Megatron  _ finally informs me that you want me to take a look at the prisoner." It was unlikely Megatron had phrased it that way. It was also likely that Megatron would have informed Knockout that Soundwave would contact him personally at a later time.

Apparently Knockout hadn't felt like waiting.

"Affirmative. Prisoner evaluation: necessary. Physical state — needs to be assessed." Soundwave was silently amused by Knockout's tone, despite the liberal paraphrasing. It wasn't really an inconvenience to have Knockout call him first, since it saved him the trouble.

"I'll meet you down in the brig in half a breem then."

"Knockout — requirements for security? Equipment?" Soundwave inquired, heading back down the hall towards the brig.

"I'm bringing a gurney to haul his unconscious aft back up to the medbay if needed. You can be back up… unless you've suddenly deleted all of your combat skills." It wasn't a question; obviously Knockout knew Soundwave wouldn't actually do such a thing. Soundwave didn't dignify the quip with a response. Knockout wouldn't be expecting one anyway. 

"Soundwave: en route." 

Remotely setting a few tasks to complete themselves in the monitor room, Soundwave turned his attention to the task at hand, checking the surveillance to track the doctor's progress. His paint was bright and shiny blue as it has ever been —  _ shinier _ than he had been in a long time on Cybertron — Knockout had a gurney all right, and seemed to be making brisk progress through the now mostly empty halls. Soundwave modulated his pace so their arrivals would coincide, despite coming from different areas of the ship.

"Good,” Knockout said when he saw Soundwave. “Have you observed anything of medical interest or can we just hurry up and get this over with?" Soundwave heard his thought that there better not have been anything notable or Soundwave shouldn't have waited to have him checked out. The doctor understood operational security, but outside of an actual combat situation medical issues should have priority! In his mind, he should have been the first to see the prisoner after he was brought in.

Soundwave found it admirable that Knockout cared so much for his job and his patients, but  _ he _ had a duty of care for the mechs under his command as well, and wasn't sorry about delays that ensured their only medic's safety. The only compromise he would have been willing to make was if there had been visibly life threatening injuries to contend with.

"Evidence of mental impairment: exceeds physical damage. Signs of energon deprivation, starvation — observed." Soundwave sent over a compressed summary of his discussion with Cliffjumper. "Speculation: specialized systems. Confirm?"

Knockout reviewed the file. "Noted." He was profoundly unhappy to hear that the prisoner was mentally impaired. That always made repairs tricky. Especially coming from the Autobots, Prowl might be conditioned to fear medics and medical procedures — Knockout levelled a vicious mental curse towards Ratchet — and possibly couldn't be negotiated with. It also meant that his code would have to be examined thoroughly, and the Decepticons would have to scrape together some time and expertise for counselling — both of which fell under Knockout's purview in the absence of any other medics, but neither of which were his specialty. 

Soundwave wondered which of the Autobots Prowl might have encountered besides Ultra Magnus. If he had become acquainted with Ratchet, then Knockout might have real reason to be concerned.

"I'll leave the gurney out here where he can't see it." He gestured impatiently for Soundwave to open the door to the brig.

Checking the video feed in advance, Soundwave opened the door and stood back so Knockout could enter first freely without being in range to be brushed aside. Prowl was still recharging in his nest. His doorwings twitched in response to the door opening, but it didn't wake him. He was still curled around the cryptex, and as he entered behind Knockout, Soundwave saw what the cameras hadn't: he had dug his claws very tightly into the metal of the box. Even in recharge, he wasn't letting it go.

Knockout took in the scene and went over to the cell, already starting his preliminary scanning.  _ That  _ was noticed by Prowl — specifically by the simulator Soundwave had observed when Prowl was analysing the cryptex, and which continued to analyse data even in recharge.

The simulator gave the scans an 83% chance of being medical in nature, extrapolating that (since he was currently in Decepticon custody) there was a 98% chance the medic was Knockout. It pulled up data that looked like fragments of Autobot intelligence files and other data comprised of purely corrupted code… and spat out "no action required" as its report to Prowl's (currently unconscious) mind. As before, Soundwave 'heard' with a bit of a lag between perception of the thoughts and their actual speed before they resynced with his own processing power.

A new line appeared in the simulator's awareness: Telepathic intrusion code detected. Again it pulled up data — both Autobot intelligence files and corrupted code, and extrapolated from Soundwave's previous presence since his capture to conclude that ‘Soundwave’ was the source. The simulator presented several ‘telepathic countermeasures’ but was overridden by a factor labelled ‘conscious decision’.

That was intriguing. The possibility of countermeasures wasn't something Soundwave had expected. He noted the various options. Most of them were just alpha-numerical file names with no description at all. That was standard for such things, as they wouldn't be useful if the telepath they were meant to guard against could see what they were before they were implemented. Some of the countermeasures had corrupt-code filenames as well. Interesting… 

Soundwave didn't elaborate on what he saw to Knockout. Instead, he simply informed him, "Prisoner: aware of Decepticon presence. Soundwave, positively identified. Knockout, preliminarily identified."

Knockout nodded. "Are you sure? He hasn't come out of recharge…" He wasn't really doubting, but while some mechs with well-developed battle protocols could be brought out of recharge very easily — in English they'd be ‘light sleepers’ — enough awareness to identify anyone entering the room shouldn't be possible… not while continuing to recharge.

"Background simulation, probability engine — ongoing processes," Soundwave said, though he lacked an explanation for how it could be running concurrent with active recharge. "Doctor's plan?" Knockout barked out a soft laugh, and Prowl's doorwings twitched in response. A cascade of analysis of the sound followed in the simulator, culminating in another ‘no action’ report. "I honestly didn't expect him to remain in recharge when we came in. I suppose we should open up the cell and see how long our good luck lasts." 

Soundwave could see medic’s intentions in his mind, and so, it almost seemed, could Prowl. Knockout meant to find the mech's motor controls and do an emergency switch-off, essentially sedating him long enough to get him on the gurney — which the simulator gave an 86% chance of after analyzing Knockout's words. Its report indicated that if such proved true, a ‘reboot’ would be necessary. It also assigned a 98% chance that Knockout would attempt to take away the cryptex; another action that would trigger a reboot.

Whatever a reboot was, it was probably better all around to immobilize Prowl. Soundwave prepared for the possibility of needing to intervene in the event that a ‘reboot’ proved to be something violent. Knockout was capable of a great deal himself when it came to subduing patients, but still. It was easy enough to warn him— "Cryptex: do not disturb."

Knockout looked over oddly. _ That’s a very strange thing to say,  _ Soundwave heard him think. "That his Security blanket?" A human concept, referring to objects (most often a blanket) that human children carried around in order to feel safer. It was widely acknowledged to be illogical, but also normal for human children.

"Contains energon. Probability of negative reaction: high." Trying to take energon from a mech who had clearly been suffering from deprivation was not a wise move and almost guaranteed to provoke an attack.

"I'll keep it in mind." Knockout was familiar with the hoarding habit of mechs who had been starved — and was as aware as Soundwave of just how many private stashes there were in various mechs' personal quarters among the crew. Even though once Prowl was immobilized there would be very little he could do about preventing the removal of the cryptex, Knockout did intend to leave it in Prowl's possession. It would be cruel otherwise. "Let's get this show on the road."

Soundwave nodded, powering down the force field of the cell and ensuring the door closed behind them. He hoped Prowl wouldn’t resist, or at least, not be too difficult to handle, but he didn’t want to take the chance of him getting past them and out into the hall. It was more of a precaution than an expectation, however. Prowl was injured, and there were two of them and only one of him in an enclosed space. Even if he didn’t make it easy, Soundwave doubted he could escape.

Prowl remained quiescent, with the simulator advising ‘no action’ right up until Knockout reached for his motor controls. Then it triggered the ‘reboot’, which brought him out of recharge and to full awareness almost faster than Soundwave could blink. With a vicious hiss, Prowl swiped at Knockout with his claws that left deep scratches in his armor as he scrambled away from the medic. The simulator was drowned out by the mech’s conscious thoughts — still there, but very much a background process, like the ‘volume’ of the analysis had been turned down while the conscious thoughts’ volume was turned up. Those thoughts focused on the two Deceptions, classifying them as threat/food.

Knockout, with a hiss of pain at the scratch, backed toward the door of the cell, giving Soundwave room to maneuver. He stayed ready to move in if Soundwave needed it, or when the prisoner was restrained; he was capable in combat, but Knockout much preferred not to fight. More significantly, he knew that given their current situation on Earth, the Decepticons couldn’t afford to have their only medic injured scuffling with a prisoner.

Prowl sized up Soundwave, and even though the volume on the simulator’s analysis had been turned down, Soundwave could still faintly hear it taking him apart. It was extremely disturbing to listen to. Both the simulator and the mech’s conscious thoughts agreed that if Soundwave could be taken down, he could be eaten… Being analyzed by an opponent was something Soundwave was used to, but being thought of as  _ food  _ was distracting. Outside that element there was nothing truly different about what the mech was thinking though, so Soundwave focused on his own goal: immobilizing the mech for Knockout. It was not the first time he, or many other Decepticons, had taken on the job of an orderly, nor would it be the last.

As swiftly as possible, Soundwave darted in towards Prowl to get around those claws to pull him forward out of the corner he’d backed into, using the broad, flat planes of his arms as impromptu shields. He needed more room to grapple with Prowl, to push him to the floor and restrain him long enough to access his motor controls. 

Prowl snarled and — contrary to what Soundwave had expected — ducked under his attempt to grab him, scrambling almost awkwardly past him. He was very quick. Then, disturbingly, rather than continuing towards Knockout or making good his escape, his regard of Soundwave as a source of fuel had him turning back to claw his way into a seam between the armor plates on Soundwave’s leg so he could bite into an energon line. 

Surprise and pain made Soundwave give a screech of feedback and pull his leg away, but the mech held on like a starving energy leech. His claws and teeth held fast, worrying the edges of the wound and tearing him open further. Soundwave hadn’t been expecting that; listening to Prowl’s analysis had been misleading in a way, and Soundwave had been thinking along the lines of fighting a mech, not a mechanimal. Fortunately, while he was busy trying to get the mech  _ off _ of him, Knockout crept up behind Prowl and, with a deft twist, disabled his motor functions.

With the mech immobilized, Soundwave managed to nod to Knockout and wait for him to separate them to prevent further damage. That bite had  _ hurt.  _ Soundwave cycled a few short, sharp ventilations, consciously controlling his reactions.

Knockout gently disentangled Prowl from Soundwave’s leg and laid him on the floor. He made sure the cryptex was touching his plating before sending a scan-burst at Soundwave. “Ow. Bet that stings. Let’s get a temp patch on that line and I’ll weld you up when we’ve gotten you both to medbay.” He cleaned the wound and attached the adhesive patch before bringing in the gurney and loading Prowl onto it, all with a professional, business-like attitude and no false sympathy. “Did you know he was going to do that?”

Prowl’s simulator was still active and whatever parameters it was operating under did not like being immobilized. It initialized a ‘specific system reboot’ in an attempt to regain mobility. Knockout was looking at Soundwave, waiting for his answer, and didn’t see the mech’s hand twitch.

Soundwave was still in pain, but with his lines temporarily patched and Knockout's hands clear of his leg, he reached out to push Knockout to the side out of Prowl's immediate reach. "Watch out." The recording flattened the inflection of the message, but its meaning was still clear.

Knockout was not a dumb mechanism. He didn't resist being shoved out of the way.

Ignoring the twinge in his leg, Soundwave stepped forward to restrain Prowl right as the simulator finished rebooting his motor controls and he jerked, almost flipping himself off the gurney and hissing threateningly, gold optics blazing brighter than their usual dim or off setting. Using the edge of his armguards rather than his thinner fingers, he bore his weight down to hold Prowl still enough for Knockout to re-immobilize him. "Stronger override, necessary," he said, somewhat unnecessarily.

Prowl hissed again, bucking in an attempt to get away, his claws raking over Soundwave's armor. Those scratches were going to sting later — he had a knack for picking out weak spots, and only his current lack of leverage kept him from tearing deeper. He bucked again, then  _ howled;  _ a loud, almost panicked sound that seemed to shake the walls and caused audial feedback static. Laserbeak flinched, giving a little cry. Knockout (mentally) did the same, gasping in shock as he dialed down audials before strapping the writhing, fighting mech down to the gurney. There was almost too much happening in the physical world to pick up much from Prowl telepathically, and Soundwave knew better than to sync with a mech in the throes of a PTSD break, but he did catch the edge of a sensation of being buried alive.

Soundwave sent a brief transmission to Laserbeak to stay clear and added a note to Prowl’s file for Knockout’s evaluation of his mental state. Rather than risk being pulled into the chaos of Prowl's processor, he turned his telepathy on Knockout to react that much faster if the medic needed him to move or assist in a different way. Knockout's thoughts were… too focused to be panicked, but he didn’t like that the prisoner had spec-ops overrides. Those were always the  _ worst  _ patients… 

Knockout finished strapping the mech down, legs and arms stasis-cuffed to the gurney. Prowl’s struggles got weaker as each cuff took effect. Then, when Prowl was jerking frantically but mostly uselessly, Knockout reached for the cover on the mech's data jack and cursed as he was forced to pry it open. He didn't rip it off, but an ill-timed jerk on the part of the prisoner made it a near thing.

That pain, right there, cut through Prowl's panic and he calmed. Again there was flicker of Ultra Magnus-instead-of-Soundwave in his mind, but this time it resolved quickly. 

_ Decided to TAKE your glimpse, Soundwave?  _ the mech thought, clearly and savagely.

"No," Soundwave answered the unspoken question, shaking his helm minutely. "Soundwave, Knockout: want to  _ help  _ Prowl. Assess injuries, repair damage.  _ Not  _ hack." The implication that Ultra Magnus had hacked the mech in the past could be dealt with later. Given what he'd discussed with Cliffjumper and what he'd observed so far, Soundwave was willing to bet that his simulation software had something to do with it, but there were more pressing matters to handle first. Beginning with making sure the mech didn't injure himself — or them — any further. 

"Please…" He considered and rejected vocalizing a request to trust them or to cooperate. Phrases like that had been taken badly by traumatized patients in the past. Thank you, Ratchet, amongst other Autobot torturers… “Please.”

Prowl snarled at that, but remained still and compliant while Knockout pulled out a data disk and uploaded a sedation program into him. He was offline only a klik later, though Soundwave could sense the simulator immediately start to counter-hack the sedation. It wasn't going to hold for long, though it seemed to be holding better than simply disabling his motor controls had.

Knockout gave a great big vent of relief. "He's afraid we're going to  _ hack  _ him? Was  _ that  _ what that was about?" He was horrified, in a way that translated to liberal amounts of cussing at the Autobot medics and interrogators.

"Affirmative. Past experience with hacks, likely." Now that they had a moment of calm, Soundwave sent a compressed version of the rest: the impressions of being buried, of Ultra Magnus, and Prowl’s discernable progress against the sedation. "Conjecture: Ultra Magnus, desired use of modified systems, upgrades."

Knockout's optics unfocused as he went over the file. Despite his morbid curiosity regarding the mech's fears, he narrowed in on the progress Prowl with the sedation, and cursed. "Frag! Frag!  _ Frag!… _ I won't have enough sedation programs if he keeps hacking them at this rate."  _ This program usually keeps  _ Jazz  _ sedated for two whole orns!  _ he thought; almost a month in human time. "Frag. Skywarp!" he barked across the ship's comms. Soundwave heard Skywarp yelp in surprise on the other end of the line. Knockout didn't wait for the seeker to protest his innocence in whatever prank he had just interrupted. "I need you and the rest of your cohorts to clear out medbay storage room B-6.  _ Now." _

In his internal surveillance-scape, Soundwave saw Skywarp (miraculously without any complaining) teleport to the specified storage room on the medbay cameras and start clearing it, bringing supplies out into the main room. The seeker sent a comm-call to Thundercracker and Cliffjumper, and they started heading toward the medbay in response to help.

"Skywarp: commencing operation. Thundercracker, Cliffjumper — en route to assist." Soundwave reported. "Query: sedation, sufficient for transport?" The three of them should be able to accomplish the task in a relatively short time, and Soundwave didn't want another struggle to break out in the hall on the way because they’d hesitated.

Knockout gave the question, referring back to the data on how fast Prowl was hacking the sedation, due consideration. He didn't want a fight in the halls either. "Assuming the fragger doesn't have any  _ more  _ surprises for us, it  _ should  _ be." He checked the stasis cuffs holding Prowl to the gurney just in case and found them secure.  _ That, _ he thought, shouldn't be hackable… though he didn't trust it as much as the sedation. Spec Ops agents had a knack for getting out of those too. He shuddered. "Let's get him to medbay."

Soundwave finally stood clear and lifted his arms away from Prowl, positioning himself at the foot of the gurney and calling Laserbeak to follow them as they set off down the hall. He sent reassurances to her that his injuries were not severe and that as soon as it was convenient, he would have them taken care of.

Knockout took up the head of the gurney and together they swiftly maneuvered Prowl to the medbay, where the trio of troublemakers (though Thundercracker was usually dragged into the pranks by accident) was clearing out the indicated storage room. Knockout had chosen well: as a captured Autobot warship, that room had been the medbay's cell for prisoners and test subjects. Knockout was using it for storage because it locked, keeping most of the crew from accessing the delicate equipment and supplies within. They certainly hadn’t anticipated having a need for its original purpose.

Without even a snarky response to Skywarp's sarcastic salute, Knockout started transferring Prowl from the gurney to the prisoner-bed. Cliffjumper gave Prowl a dubious look and slinked away silently as soon as his job was done. He didn't want to deal with the prisoner, and Thundercracker, who was preparing to follow him out, was in accord. Skywarp, however, was fascinated. "Is that who the fuss is about?"

"Prisoner: requires medical evaluation. Repairs." Soundwave drew himself up to give the frame-language equivalent of a stern glare. "Skywarp: will not disturb." He knew the seeker wasn't unobservant, and couldn't have missed the scratches Knockout's normally pristine paint job was sporting, or the deeper rents in his own armor. "Will not  _ discuss." _

"Yeah yeah, I get you," Skywarp waved off the warning, examining said scratches carefully before giving an impressed whistle. "Mean little grounder." Thundercracker clearly thought he was going to need to grab Skywarp by the wing and drag him off — a not uncommon occurrence — but had barely made a move to do so when Skywarp shook his hand off. "I know, we need to get out of their way." Thundercracker sighed in relief as Skywarp left. His salute was much more serious than his companion’s had been on his way out.

Knockout ignored all of them and remained focused on Prowl. He was busy running diagnostics, trying to get as much as possible accomplished before Prowl finished hacking the sedation program. "Let me know when he's about to come out of it," he asked, thinking that, right now at least, it was enough that Prowl was in the medbay brig. Scans and repairs would have to be done according to the schedule of how long it took him to hack the sedation.

"Affirmative," Soundwave confirmed, splitting his focus between monitoring Prowl and a lesser thread to watching the seekers' activities. Sometimes when Skywarp acquiesced that easily, he genuinely didn't intend to cause trouble. Other times it was a diversion, and he would pop back up later when he thought the coast was clear. Prowl was problematic enough without having to worry about any ill-conceived or poorly executed attempts at spying from Skywarp.

Following his silent direction, Laserbeak floated gently to a position in the main medbay to observe and alert him of anyone arriving, freeing more of his processor from active surveillance to focus on their prisoner.

Kliks ticked by in a dizzying parade of numbers and code inside Prowl's processor. Soundwave was a good hacker; he had defended the Decepticons' base computers from Jazz's hacks, constructed viruses of his own, and even hacked prisoners on those rare occasions when the need for information precluded any other options. Prowl…  _ wasn’t  _ a good hacker. There was no training or finesse to what the simulator was doing. It simply tried  _ every  _ combination of code it could, keeping the bits and pieces that worked and discarding those that didn’t, to construct an anti-viral script to disable the sedation program. It was inelegant and clumsy, but it was  _ dizzyingly  _ fast. Training would almost be redundant, with that kind of brute computing speed… and it was that speed that allowed Prowl to break down sedation that even Jazz had trouble with: both his natural processor speed, and that of the simulator running full-tilt, conveniently unaffected by the sedation.

Twenty kliks after Knockout first installed it back in the brig, the last of the sedation program started to give way. "Doctor," Soundwave said, drawing the medic's attention to the counter ticking down on the external display of his visor. It was starting to look almost miraculous that Ultra Magnus had managed to hold the mech in a  _ crate _ … but then again, physical barriers like steel crates couldn't be slipped the same way as restraints, and weren't subject to being overridden by brute force hacking. They had successfully contained Prowl in their brig; why shouldn’t Ultra Magnus, large mech that he was, be capable of physically overpowering Prowl and forcing him into the cage he'd been keeping him in? He certainly wasn’t likely to care about damaging him in the process.

Knockout heeded the warning and pulled back before Prowl could finished hacking the sedation, ushering Soundwave out of the storage ro— out of the cell, and locked the door. "Let's get your leg fixed up and I'll tell you what I've learned so far," he said, suddenly sounded tired. He gestured to the usual medical berth, the one without restraints.

Soundwave complied wordlessly, gratefully taking his weight off his injured leg. He felt tired too, mentally more than physically (injuries aside). Trying to keep up with the speed at which Prowl's processor flew through computations was wearying, and it was a relief to be able to stop.

Knockout disabled Soundwave's pain receptors, then carefully and gently took off the patch, cleaned the wound, re-soldered wires, patched the lines with stronger materials, annealed the armor so it could be bent back and welded… The task was soothing to him. Familiar. And despite the ease of it, he focused completely on the repair. Every so often he started to mutter something uncomplimentary about the mech responsible for the injury, but then his mind brought him up short and he would fall silent. It wasn’t entirely Prowl’s fault, what had happened.

He was finishing up with the leg wound and starting on the other scratches when Prowl suddenly howled again from inside the cell, another audial-shattering sound like the one in the brig. Knockout winced and left the scratch he was working on for a moment to bring up a schematic of a Praxan frame for Soundwave's perusal.

It was the generic Praxan schematic, but he was editing it to more closely resemble the prisoner. Soundwave watched with interest as some of the variants of the standard things he had already noticed appeared, along with several he had not. "Extent of injuries?" he asked, meaning Prowl's, though it doubled as an inquiry for himself.

"You're going to be fine," Knockout assured, returning to cleaning out and filling in his scratches. "Your leg needs a few days for the materials to incorporate and these," he made a pass with the flux before filling it in with solder, "would heal on their own, but I want to get them filled in to prevent infection from Earth's water-rich atmosphere. As for our prisoner…" He trailed off, then steeled himself. "I'm still cataloguing all the  _ damage." _

After a pause to collect his thoughts, Knockout began listing off his findings. "He's got evidence — lots of evidence — of past beatings, some of which haven't healed completely. He's got a recent injury to his doorwings and his knee joint, specifically, as well as dents that have been popped but not fully repaired. Cracked armor. Most of his struts have at least hairline fractures in them, and then there's the signs of neglect. Malnourishment. His armor's thin, and grey isn't his natural nanite color… He's been starved long enough, badly enough, that he barely even  _ has  _ color nanites, except a few stubborn ones on that chevron. His fuel system's a mess: his tank and tubing's worn and full of buildup and mineral deposits indicative of very low-quality energon. Maybe even raw crystals or — and I say this only because of how he went after you in the brig — fuel from mechanimals, or even mechs. And that’s  _ before  _ I even get started on the possible processor damage.” His tone matched his exasperation at the amount of work he was in for, and Soundwave couldn’t blame him. “Speaking of which, your turn. Spill."

"Erratic thought patterns," Soundwave began, the difficulty of translating telepathic observations compounded by his limited speech. "Layered. Foreground: mechanimal mindset. Predatory." He turned to regard the bite wound in his leg. "Prisoner, evaluates intrusions as — threat. Fuel. Risk versus reward." There was no doubt in his mind that Prowl had eaten both raw crystals and fueled from other mechanisms. "Original intention — escape — sublimated. Need for fuel, greater. That mindset: saw Soundwave as… fuel source."

Knockout gave a grimace of disgust, but wasn't surprised.

"Higher processing, simulation, analysis: background function." Here the difficulty in explaining was that Soundwave didn't fully understand what he had seen. "Processor: capable of great speed. Handling large amounts of data. Problem: large proportion of the data strings — corrupt. Source code, unreadable. Virus? Damage? Soundwave: does not know."

Knockout filled in the last scratch and reactivated the pain sensors. Soundwave immediately felt a dull ache… just in time for Prowl to let out another howl.  _ How many times can he do that that before he burns out his vocalizer?  _ Knockout wondered before saying out loud, "I don't have a full schematic, but I did find your… What did you call it? 'Background simulation'." He manipulated the schematic to highlight a set of processors located in the mech's upper chest cavity. "That's a tactical combat analysis auxiliary computer. Praxan, which means I don't know much about the actual specs. The records are long gone, but I do know that there weren't many of these built because they were expensive and considered largely unnecessary before the war broke out."

"Prisoner's modifications: pre-war?" That was curious. Knockout was right that there hadn't been many built before then. However, the odds were just as long against a mech getting mods like that during the war without rising in the ranks to the point that the Decepticons would have heard of him. Cliffjumper's Prowl certainly had; why hadn't this one? "Possible to date upgrades?"

"They date to his creation… though when that was I've no way of telling right now. These things need to be integrated into a mech's systems before they're brought online the first time. And if the ember's not compatible, there are  _ nasty  _ side effects."

"Side effects: elaborate." Not that Soundwave believed Prowl's insanity was due to compatibility issues between his ember and his frame. A medic he was not, but neither was he stupid, and his state of mind was far more likely to be the result of some other trauma after his creation than an accident of it. Had something terrible happened to him before Ultra Magnus that had kept him out of the war and driven him mad? Perhaps the fear of being buried he had glimpsed was related to the fall of Praxus… Regardless, the way he continued to howl was disconcerting. He seemed to be taking poorly to the restraints, and Soundwave felt bad that their attempts to help the mech were causing him to suffer.

Instead of answering right away, Knockout pulled up the information on his terminal. It had been a very long time since dedicated tactical hardware was available to either side in the war. Those who could use it — even if it wasn't integrated like Prowl's — were well known and they were targets. "Again… this is a Praxan model, so I don't have anything about the specifics, just extrapolating from Kaonex and Tarn models… the most common sign of incompatibility was complete system failure, usually within the first vorn. This mech's definitely older than  _ that." _

"Soundwave: concurs." Not doubting Knockout's word, Soundwave still reviewed the information on the terminal, noting the details silently. "Probability: tactical system, current mental state — unrelated."

"Yeah… I wasn't suggesting it was. Just… mentioning it. That's not to say those things don't have an effect on a mech's personality, even if they're extremely compatible. Most of the literature agrees that if the ember and tac-comp can work together, the resulting personality is very stable and not prone to insanity at all. Something…" He trailed off and looked at the door of the medical cell again, a worried, pitying look in his optics. Soundwave heard the thought he didn't say out loud:  _ Something happened to that mech to make him this way. _

Curiosity had Soundwave's processor considering different possibilities for that something and potential reasons for the insanity. Narrowing the list down was complicated by their lack of understanding of exactly how insane Prowl was. Some of the ways it manifested were familiar, but others weren't; the corrupt code Soundwave kept seeing was both intriguing and frustrating. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important… Then pragmatism stepped in. How he'd been driven insane wasn't important unless it informed how Prowl would behave and whether he would be dangerous to himself or anyone else. Unless it would help Knockout  _ cure  _ his insanity, finding the  _ cause  _ of it wasn't really their priority.

"Knockout: needs to complete evaluation." Soundwave turned to the cell as well, acknowledging the difficulty inherent in the task. "How?"

"I don't have a fragging clue, Strong’n’Silent. If he keeps hacking the sedation programs in just a bit over two breems, I'm going to need all of them just to do some of the most critical repairs… the ones he cannot be awake for. Which makes the rest of the repairs, not to mention the code exams… extremely difficult." At least Autobot Spec-Ops prisoners  _ wanted  _ the repairs, and usually waited until he was almost done to try and kill him. "And if he's been hacked himself, that's an entirely new layer of difficulty on top of everything else." He gave out an engine-snarl of frustration.

"Prisoner: experienced hacks." Soundwave was confident of that, and Knockout was right — it complicated things.

"Yeah yeah," Knockout waved a hand. "I wasn't actually doubting you," he said, then fell quiet.

Quiet… 

Soundwave held up a hand to forestall Knockout saying anything else, then brought one of the digits of his other hand up in front of his face: a gesture for indicating quiet. He'd been bracing himself for the next outburst of sound from the cell, the next terrifying howl from Prowl, but it wasn’t coming. He extended his audial pickup cautiously first, rather than reaching out with his telepathy just yet.

Knockout tilted his helm to listen too, but Soundwave had the most precise hearing among the Decepticons. He could hear Prowl in the cell… the soft hum of a not-quite healthy engine, a gentle scraping and scratching, and other sounds of him moving around in there. He had slipped at least one of the cuffs then. That hadn’t taken very long… 

After a few moments there came a soft chuckle, then a quiet rhyme, "Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once my your name…"

"Prisoner: seems calmer," Soundwave told Knockout very softly. Now he risked a careful telepathic probe, less worried about being pulled into an overwhelming traumatic memory with it no longer sounding like Prowl was caught in a flashback. The simulator — the tactical computer — seemed to be the dominant thought-thread at the moment, the one with the highest 'volume' and consequently what he 'heard' first. Currently it was simulating the deconstruction of its third stasis cuff — the one on Prowl's left leg.

"Say it if you know…" Prowl said quietly. "Rumpelstiltskin! Gotcha!" He giggled quietly.

Feeling slightly foolish for not doing so sooner, Soundwave pinged the ship's surveillance system to bring the cameras in the cell that had been switched off while it was merely serving as storage back online. They'd been part of the network before, probably so that the Autobot medics could vicariously enjoy a visual to accompany the screams of their victims as they lay in agony… tearing himself away from that thought with a shudder, Soundwave reported to Knockout, "Sedation, stasis cuffs — both hackable. Re-entering room, may prove difficult."

Knockout swore viciously as the surveillance system confirmed what Soundwave had suspected. Prowl was almost entirely free from the cuffs, working with both hands to release his legs.

"I should know better than to expect a silly butterfly to know my name. All butterflies know are songs and poetry and anything else they hear. I guess you mean well. Fly away, butterfly!" Soundwave and Knockout both watched the camera feed as Prowl laughed, louder, and broke the last cuff and gathered the pieces before ducking under the berth. Unlike the one in the brig, which the Decepticons had anticipated having to use and replaced the original slab with an actual recharge berth, this one had only been used as a shelf and was nothing more than a solid sheet of metal attached to the wall.

Which gave Prowl room to curl up in the space under it without demolishing it like he had the one in the brig.

"Repairs, assessments. Priority?" Soundwave asked, contemplating the feasibility of another idea. "Possibility: discuss repairs with prisoner? Soundwave: listen for answers other than words."

"Run that by me again, Strong’n’Silent."

"Knockout: tell prisoner — plans for repairs. Prisoner's words: may not be rational. Soundwave — can listen for…  _ tactical computer's _ response." The sentence was badly cut up and jumbled, a conglomerate of several butchered recordings. Soundwave hoped it still managed to clarify his intentions at least a little. "Assess — possibility of cooperation."

"See if he’s willing to be a rational, non-hostile patient you mean?” Knockout translated. “Sure. Why not? The worst that could happen is he tries to eat us…"

"Further attacks: almost a guarantee, otherwise. Talking through door, safer." Though as he said the words, Soundwave realized they might need to open the door and risk an assault anyway, even to talk. On the other side of the door, they were both outside Prowl's immediate environment, which he'd already proven to a tendency to ignore.

Knockout shrugged. "Worth a try I guess." He stood up and went over to the door. "Hey crazy mech! You willing to let me finish scanning you?"

The medic couldn't see Soundwave rolling his optics behind his mask, but he did anyway at his choice of phrasing. On the surveillance-scape Prowl simply continued taking apart the cuffs further, turning them into the first scraps of a new nest under the berth.

Soundwave got up as well and joined Knockout at the door, tapping on it in a polite knock. "Prowl," his playback voice echoed. "Query: listening?"

Prowl finished with the cuffs, then wiggled out from under the berth to investigate the room. In his thoughts — which now had his ‘standard’ processor in control with the simulator running as a barely-heard background process — Soundwave could see he was looking for more nesting material. He acknowledged the sound of voices mentally, honing in on it like any predator/prey animal would, but then dismissed it. The whatever-that-was was behind the door. Neither food nor threat.

Soundwave shook his helm. "Words: heard. Dismissed. Not relevant — not part of the environment."

Knockout gave Soundwave a look. A,  _ Seriously? This is ridiculous, _ look. "Wonderful," he said flatly.

Obviously Prowl was not able to find any new materials for his nest. Which was sort-of-fine. Less fine than just a thing he couldn't change. He would make do. He gnawed on one of his claws a bit. After a bit of that, the simulator spat out an analysis of the shape, angle and sharpness of the claw, and Prowl stretched and scratched at the nearest wall until some minute adjustment in sharpness had been achieved.

It was the first time Soundwave had been close enough to read him while he engaged in that scratching behavior. The fact that he was doing it deliberately, rather than restlessly, was a good thing in a way. It meant he wasn't clawing in response to a need to dig himself out, which, given the glimpse Soundwave had caught in his mind of being buried, indicated the flashback had fully subsided.

That he was doing it to make his claws into better weapons was less good than if he were doing it to modify his environment though, at least as far as  _ their  _ well-being went if he decided to try eating them again. That prospect helped distract Soundwave from the parallel the action had in his memory of another mech, lazily sharpening her claws while watching the others play…

On the surveillance-scape, Prowl tilted his head and doors as though listening, then flicked them dismissively. He shook and settled his armor plates into a looser setting, then crawled back under the berth. Stretching his newly sharpened claws a few times, he curled up to rest. As soon as recharge initiated, the simulator once again became the dominant thought-thread in his processor, analyzing the environment around him for danger.

Soundwave stepped back. "Recharging. Interruption: unwise." He recalled the image he’d seen more than once of Ultra Magnus bearing energon, and considered Prowl's search for nest material. "Suggestion: attempt communication later. Offer trade. Not energon — mesh scraps, for nest."

Knockout was… at that point just disbelieving that one prisoner was giving them so much grief. Jazz was only this much trouble while he was in the process of escaping… and sedating that fragger actually  _ worked, _ for a while. "This is ridiculous. How does this happen? Don't actually answer that…" He took a moment, stilling his vents while he calmed himself. "Alright. Trade. Mesh scraps… not energon? I'd think that would at least distract him from eating us for a few kliks."

"Energon: necessity. Withholding for cooperation, not feasible long term. Also," Soundwave said, emphasizing the words as best he could, "avoiding further association with — previous captor, advisable."

Knockout stared in blank shock. His processor refused to process the words for a moment, and when it did he gave a violent, ember-deep shudder. "No. You're right. Definitely not energon. Not for cooperation."

Soundwave nodded decisively. "Agreed. Knockout: prepare suitable items? Soundwave: continue monitoring, inform Shockwave." The scientist would still be finishing his second version of the cryptex, and would need to be told of the prisoner's relocation. Hopefully he wouldn't be too put out over the altered variable.

"Yeah… I can get some bits and pieces for him to play with. Mesh scraps?" Knockout was tired and rather wanted to recharge himself. Even so, he was mulling over a few items he thought might be suitable. He did want to repair the prisoner, and anything that might facilitate that end had his attention. "What's Shockwave got planned?" His voice sounded scathing, but Soundwave heard him actually hoping that Shockwave had figured out whatever he was trying to figure out.

"Shockwave: developing intelligence tests. Updating cryptex," Soundwave explained. "Plan: deliver puzzle, observe attempts to solve." That Soundwave would be watching Prowl's processor as he made those attempts went without saying. "Intended timeframe: tomorrow morning. Shockwave, must bring cryptex here."

Knockout immediately thought of the cryptex Prowl had with him, the one containing energon, and how clingy Prowl still was with it. "When'd you give him the first one? Has he solved it yet?" He was expecting to hear he had solved it immediately.

"First delivery, this morning. Prisoner: examined cryptex. First attempted to open — by force." Soundwave pulled up a short clip on his mask. His telepathic observations, of course, could not be displayed, but Prowl’s actions largely spoke for themselves. "Cryptex: solved in processor, not in fact. Analysis: effort, not yet warranted."

Knockout stared slightly disbelieving at the clip of Prowl trying to gnaw the box open. He had a hard time reconciling that with the same mech who had _ just hacked his sedation programs!  _ Eventually he shook himself, forcing himself to accept the images. "Solved in his processor… by the tac-comp?"

"Affirmative. Multiple solutions, considered. Implementation of each: ranked. Rejected. Fuel levels, too high."

"Presumably solving Shockwave's first attempt at a child's puzzle wasn't too difficult… less difficult than trying to take you down the way he did earlier, I bet. So either the decision that you were food earlier was entirely impulsive, or the puzzle box somehow represents a disconnect between his tac-comp and his conscious mind in a way that trying to kill another mech for fuel doesn't." Knockout thought about that for a moment. "I don't know what that means, if it's true. I just don't know enough about the psychology of tac-comp equipped mechs… much less the  _ abnormal  _ psychology of tac-comp equipped mechs." He sighed. "At least we know there's nothing wrong with his short-term memory storage and retrieval, if he still remembers the box has fuel in it."

Soundwave hadn't considered Prowl's actions in that light before. Looking at it now, it was curious that he'd held onto the cryptex without opening it even though he could have, but had attacked Soundwave instead of trying to escape. As Shockwave was fond of saying, they needed more data. It was too soon to draw reliable conclusions.

"Soundwave: will update, after discussing with Shockwave," he announced, before heading for the door.

Knockout nodded, turning towards his berth and some much needed sleep. "Let me know when Shock's got his thing ready. I don't want him crowding my medbay any more than necessary."

"Understood." 

Soundwave stepped out quietly to let the doctor rest, transferring the task of monitoring the cell’s surveillance feed to Laserbeak. She'd let him know when Prowl stirred, and as soon as he was finished checking in with Shockwave, which shouldn't take long, he intended to join them all in recharge.


	5. Chapter 4

Shockwave had already been nearly done with the new cryptex the previous night, and was just working on the finishing touches when Soundwave contacted him. He wasn't happy about the change in Prowl's location — Knockout's medical sensibilities existed solely to interfere with his pursuit of science, in his mind — but he (logically) couldn't do anything about it. He knew Prowl wouldn't be pried out of the medbay until he was repaired… if he could even be pried out from under the berth in his cell.

His call announcing that the second cryptex was finished came at some… disgustingly early hour of the morning, waking Soundwave from his slumber to come to the lab so Shockwave could instruct him on its use before Prowl's morning energon.

Soundwave checked his chronometer somewhat foggily and sent a quick confirmation that he would be on his way shortly. He connected with the ship's systems to see if there were any important updates. None of his system alarms had gone off, meaning there hadn't been anything that couldn't wait for him to be on-duty again to deal with, but he still needed to catch up on the relevant events of the night shift now that he was awake.

The mech on monitor duty had handled and logged everything well. Soundwave skimmed the reports and then reached out to Laserbeak, asking for her report on Prowl. He had given her instructions to observe him and note if he started muttering again. Watching her recordings, Soundwave saw he had indeed talked during the night, as well as played with the cryptex, chasing it around like a ball and hitting it into walls. 

Prowl's words about everything he said being meant to be heard were still lodged firmly in his processor as Soundwave listened to his ramblings. It was nonsense… except the last thing he said before ending his game and returning to recharge. Prowl looked directly at the camera and said, "Nonsense is, by definition, unexplainable."It was strangely comforting that Prowl still made as little sense as ever, if frustrating. 

Soundwave told Laserbeak to rejoin him as he headed to Shockwave's lab, letting her dock and power down to rest. He pet her briefly as she settled, then pinged Shockwave wordlessly as he arrived to announce himself.

Shockwave didn't acknowledge the ping; since he was expecting it, doing so would have been illogical. There were three cryptexes on the work table in front of him, a fact that only slightly surprised Soundwave. He knew what the scientist was like with his projects.

"This is the first one," Shockwave began, dispensing with any sort of greetings or pleasantries to jump right into his explanation. "Given that the subject has shown a reluctance to open the puzzles immediately, even considering the energon contained within, I have put a transmitter in each of them that will let us know when he does so even if he is not under observation at that time." He didn't actually doubt the surveillance measures already in place, Soundwave could tell, but was taking into account that even Soundwave need to recharge.

Soundwave wasn't offended by any of it — the lack of acknowledgement, the abruptness of Shockwave's speech, or the backup measure. He approved of the last, in fact. Constant surveillance was difficult to manage, and additional contingencies never hurt. Besides, even in a cell as small as the one in the medbay, the camera had blind spots. This way, they could not fail to know exactly when Prowl opened the cryptex.

Moving on to the other puzzles, Shockwave said, "Given that you observed the subject solving the initial puzzle telepathically, indicating capability, I have made these marginally more difficult. And after observing his treatment of the first puzzle since it was given to him, I have also re-enforced them with additional measures to prevent potential breakage." He demonstrated how to put the energon inside, the procedure as efficient as it had been for the initial prototype. "Now… if the  _ good doctor  _ will allow us to proceed, I suggest we head to the medbay post-haste."

"Knockout: expecting us," Soundwave relayed, though the medic wasn't actually aware that their arrival was imminent. 'In the morning' had been rather unspecific. Soundwave checked the medbay to see if Knockout was awake yet, preparing to send him an alert that they would be arriving shortly if he was. Surveillance revealed that he was indeed up, polishing… something, cleaning a nonexistent blemish from the object in his hands. It was something he did when stressed, a soothing activity. Soundwave sending his message didn't interrupt him; Knockout simply acknowledged and continued polishing.

Turning his attention back to Shockwave, Soundwave swept an arm out towards the door, waiting for the scientist to assemble everything he wanted to bring with him. He held out his other hand, offering to carry anything if necessary.

Shockwave didn't acknowledge either the polite gesture or the polite offer. He just picked up the first cryptex and headed to the door. He did wait for Soundwave to precede him, however — the logical arrangement, given their respective ranks — and didn't try to engage in conversation on the way to the medbay.

Knockout greeted them at the conclusion of their silent journey with a polite nod to Soundwave and a scathing look at Shockwave. He was not in a good mood, and a telepathic brush against his thoughts revealed that it was Prowl that had him in that state. He had finished cataloguing the mech's injuries, both old and new, and was not pleased with his findings at all. Having a mech so heavily damaged in his medbay and having to wait to repair him chafed… though he was rational enough to acknowledge that it was the mech himself responsible for the delay, not Shockwave. He was projecting his frustration onto Shockwave's experiment, but knew that he was doing it, which manifested in uncharacteristic silence from the normally garrulous medic.

Soundwave hoped his silence would hold for at least a little while. While he sympathized with Knockout's frustration, he really didn't want to deal with Shockwave and Knockout having one of their arguments while they were supposed to be focusing on the prisoner. 

Speaking of which…

"Configuration of cell: different. Delivering cryptex, will require a different approach." There was no force field this time to easily pass the cryptex through without a risk of Prowl breaking free — part of the different variables that Shockwave disapproved of. "Prisoner: must not be allowed to escape."

"Understood." Shockwave handed over the cryptex and the gelled energon. "Remember, he must watch you put it in so that he knows he must get into the puzzle for the fuel."

"Affirmative." Soundwave went over to the door, turning back to Shockwave once there. "Shockwave: assist." Both his hands were full and the physical door required someone to open it, but it would also be good to have the mech nearby as backup. More contingencies. Those were the only kind of plans Soundwave felt perfectly comfortable making in regards to Prowl — contingency plans.

Silently Shockwave approached. He had deduced both of Soundwave's intentions and had no issue with either. With his strength the door slid open easily to allow Soundwave to slip inside.

Prowl was still under the berth. From this angle (rather than that of the camera up above, which only showed a view of the slab) Soundwave could see that his optics were faintly lit, staring at him as he came through the door. Despite the disruptions to his routine, Prowl had still internalized the fueling schedule and was expecting energon… though he still hadn't connected Soundwave as its source, except in the unnerving sense of being a literal source. 

Having experienced firsthand what being a literal source of energon felt like already, Soundwave definitely did not want to get bitten again if he could help it. Fortunately, Prowl’s processor judged waiting for the cube to be easier for now and he stayed put, watching. Soundwave held up both the cryptex and the energon, watching to see if Prowl would remember this from before and making sure he saw him placing it inside before sealing it.

Prowl did keep a careful optic on the process. He recognized that the energon was in the container, even drawing a thin parallel to the other cryptex currently under the berth behind him.

Trying to move in a non-threatening manner, Soundwave leaned down to roll the cryptex along the floor towards Prowl. He didn't have to stoop much thanks to his long arms, and he straightened quickly as soon as he let the puzzle go.

Prowl tiled his head at the box curiously. Soundwave felt  _ happiness/curiosity/affection _ directed at the box, but instead of pouncing on it immediately, Prowl turned to look at him. He inched forward furtively, slowly closing the distance between them. His mind still read as  _ happy, _ and the tac-comp's thought-thread (the thread concerned with the energon in Soundwave's lines) was so quiet it was almost nonexistent. His dominant conscious thought was just  _ affection _ .

Once again caught off guard, Soundwave debated the wisdom of staying in the cell and letting Prowl continue to approach him. He could still attack suddenly regardless of his current frame of mind. Figuring that trying to leave now might provoke such an attack, Soundwave opted to stay where he was. He didn't want to disrupt the experiment and lose the opportunity to see what Prowl would do next either. If an attack came, he would handle it. They were in the medbay, after all.

Prowl crept closer until he finally reached Soundwave and… began rubbing affectionately against his legs, even stretching one doorwing up to brush against his fingers. The sense of  _ pleasure/relief _ it triggered was a bright spark to Soundwave's telepathy and he did it again, right against the itch Soundwave could now feel was his entire focus. His chevron was, like the rest of him, sharp, and left little hairline scratches in Soundwave's paint.

There was something immensely satisfying, though unformed in Prowl's thoughts, in touching another, living mech. His engine let out a soft, if not entirely healthy-sounding, purr.

Something inside Soundwave  _ ached _ in response. His fingers twitched reflexively, reaching out and touching back before he even realized he was doing it. Memories of Ravage, happy memories of time spent together with his symbiotes bubbled up and Soundwave fought to push them back. He recognized touch-starvation was a real issue for social beings, but he had Laserbeak. He was _ fine. _

This was just for Prowl.

He firmly reminded himself to keep a close watch on the layers of thoughts in Prowl's processor. It would be foolish not to look out for a potential attack even now, and the threads spinning from the tac-comp certainly didn’t feel any affection or gratitude. It was busy supplying all the best ways to cripple Soundwave from their current position to Prowl's conscious mind — and there were a lot of them. 

The attack it was readying for never came, however. Instead, Prowl just cooed softly as Soundwave scratched the itch on his doorwing. The purr (and the unhealthy burr in it) grew louder as he twined himself around slender blue legs, seemingly trying to achieve as much plating contact as possible.

Aware that Shockwave (and probably Knockout) was watching, Soundwave refused to give in to the wave of concern he felt over that burr. He did  _ not _ let himself kneel down to run his hands over Prowl to figure out what was wrong and what maintenance he could do. A nearly subsonic sympathetic hum did manage to roll from his speakers as he continued to brush his fingers along Prowl's doorwing though, and if he leaned into the contact against his legs ever so slightly, well… maybe no one would notice.

There was a flicker of surprise at the sympathetic hum, like Prowl was expecting a different, more violent reaction to his affection. He fluttered the doorwing not currently getting scratched in time with the sound, even managing to sync his engine to it somewhat. The tac-comp fell silent in his thoughts; having offered its input, what Prowl did from there was not its concern. No longer focused on  _ threat/attack, _ it engaged in mapping and assessing the parts of the medbay that were visible through the partially-open doorway and the two mechs standing in it… Prowl ignored that part of his mind, insisting on more and more contact, bewildered that Soundwave was still allowing it.

He _shouldn't_ be allowing it, Soundwave knew. He _knew_ it, and yet couldn't bring himself to stop. It was completely justifiable, he told himself. He couldn't disrupt the experiment, after all. Couldn't risk provoking an attack. The whole point was to watch without interfering, so there was no reason to do anything other than continue to ~~enjoy~~ _observe_ the subject's behavior.

Soundwave shook his helm minutely at the ridiculous direction of his own thoughts. Casting a portion of his attention back toward Shockwave and Knockout, he checked to see what the two were actually thinking about this development.

Shockwave's thoughts on the matter were  _ interesting, but ultimately has nothing to do with the desired data on the subject’s intelligence. _ He was noting that the subject had, for a second time, passed up the opportunity to solve the puzzle and gain access to the energon within immediately.  _ Perhaps the use of energon as a motivational reward should be reevaluated. Despite evidence of starvation, the subject doesn’t seem to have a typical starved mech's priorities… _

Knockout was just shocked, astonished that the crazy-mech they had hauled in here screaming — and that scream had haunted his recharge last night — was doing something like this. Then he narrowed his optics and his focus.  _ Touch-starved, the both of them… if Soundwave's reacting like this to the affection of some random mech, and a dangerous one at that, then we need to start looking at how well he's actually holding up after— _

Cursing internally, Soundwave stopped listening to Knockout. He didn't want to think about that. He was fine! Why was the medic even going there? Shockwave's thoughts about the strange priorities Prowl seemed to have were much more interesting, and an excellent question! Why wouldn't a mech who had clearly been starved as badly as Prowl not prioritize energon higher?

Trusting Shockwave to guard the door, Soundwave decided to try again with the cryptex. Very carefully, timing his movement to avoid tripping over Prowl or knocking into him unexpectedly, he took a step toward the cryptex where it had rolled, letting his fingers continue to hang ( _ not _ reach!) down towards Prowl’s doorwing.

That triggered something: a growl, paired with an aggressive tensing of doorwings. The tac-comp helpfully highlighted its suggestions on how to cripple Soundwave once again, returning to that analysis in light of Prowl's new  _ defensiveness/aggression. _ The heightened volume of that thread made Soundwave aware once again of just how easy it would be for Prowl to follow through on those suggestions, practically wrapped around his legs as he was. 

The fuel, it seemed, had not been forgotten. It was still plenty high up on Prowl's priority-trees; if not as high up as the opportunity to snuggle, still higher up than the actual  _ snuggler. _ There was also a possessive element of  _ Mine! _ about his thoughts regarding the cryptex — Prowl did  _ not want Soundwave touching it! _

Reversing directions, Soundwave retreated to his starting position. Trying to draw Prowl's attention back to the cryptex obviously wouldn’t end well, if he thought Soundwave meant to take it away. A reasonable enough assumption, since Soundwave hadn't told him his intentions, and Prowl had no reason to believe he would give it back.

The aggression ebbed from Prowl's mind as Soundwave settled back. He brushed his other doorwing against his fingers in an enticement to get more scratches… obligingly, Soundwave did so, though there was something else now in Prowl’s thoughts — a knot forming up from the corrupt-code strings. They made no sense, but slowly took up more and more of Prowl's processor space. 

It was a curious sort of strain trying to see any sort of pattern in them, different to how it felt trying to keep up with the lightning speed of the tac-comp's calculations. Soundwave had to be careful not to look too closely to prevent overexerting his own processor as the corrupt-code strings kept multiplying. 

Prowl clutched at the  _ affection, _ almost desperately like he was fighting to hold onto it in the face of the rising tide of corrupt code, then gave a sigh from his vents that sounded almost resigned. "All butterflies know are songs and poetry and anything else they hear…" he crooned, almost sing-song. He didn't draw back physically, but Soundwave felt him brace mentally, almost like he’d been conditioned to expect violence for such things…

In response to that mental flinch, Soundwave deliberately stroked soothingly with his fingers, wondering at the source of that conditioning. Why would Prowl be expecting violence? From whom?

"Don't, Soundwave… the stars are too many, the tapestry too large… the pattern cannot be calculated in anything less than eight dimensions. If Sleipnir could be caught, the sound could be heard undistorted…"

"Soundwave: wants to understand," Soundwave said in a blend of voice clips hardly bearing any resemblance to the original speakers. "Want to help." He hadn't anticipated trying to talk with Prowl during the experiment, but if he could make any sort of headway in getting him to cooperate with the repairs… Maybe they could do something about that painful-sounding burr, the one that hurt Soundwave to listen to.

Prowl, snuggled up against one leg, just cackled. His doorwing was still brushing against Soundwave's hand, though the itch was gone. In fact… most of the thoughts about energon, his frame… anything that wasn't that corrupt-code was gone. Even the tac-comp was quiet. "Stars scream and fall to the earth, each a candle burning because of a ripple in existence… I promised you a glimpse. Payment for a riddle. Think  _ carefully… _ is  _ this  _ what you wish to spend it on?"

Soundwave almost said yes. He wanted to, but something held him back. It didn't feel right; not with the others here. Their presence asserted a certain set of priorities, and right now— "Repairs: more important," he said, though the recordings didn't convey his concern or regret as well as he wished they did. "Later." Because he very much did want to ask again later. Corrupt as they appeared, those code strings were clearly still functional somehow, and Soundwave found that fascinating.

Prowl cackled again, going limp against Soundwave's leg; content, it seemed, to take advantage of his presence for as long as the (from his perspective) unexpected goodwill lasted. The unfettered affection from before was gone, however. All Soundwave could see were the corrupt code strings being fed to the tac-comp, which generated analyses that made even less sense, which were in turn fed back into the corrupt code thoughts.

"…the complete lack of light,” he kept muttering to himself. “There was only glass crunching underfoot… Even without their lights he could hear a change in the sound quality… Undercity…" From English he lapsed into Cybertronian and then into something that sounded even more primitive, like the warbling of simple machines exchanging greetings. The corrupt-code maintained its firm hold on his processor.

Still not interested in hearing any sort of judgements in Knockout’s processor, Soundwave turned to Shockwave, telepathically as well as physically. He tilted his head, inviting him to comment, but the mech said nothing and simply continued watching. He was thinking about what Prowl’s actions might mean. Shockwave didn’t feel the  _ feelings _ behind things like affection, but he understood their psychological impact. Which he knew could be considerable, but should not be a priority to a mech who showed as much evidence of long-term starvation as Prowl did.

Since Soundwave was  _ not _ paying attention to Knockout, he was slightly surprised when his voice came over the comms to both him and Shockwave. “I think whatever you thought you were going to see, you’ve either seen or you're not going to, Shocky. Experiment over — I want to take advantage of the prisoner’s touchy-feely side while he’s more interested in cuddling Soundwave than eating him. Repairs. Pesky things, I know, but this is my medbay.”

Shockwave answered the same way, over comms: “The doctor’s logic is, as usual, flawed, but his conclusions are sound. If the subject will not solve the puzzle at this moment, then there is no reason to continue observation.”

“Agreed.” Continuous observation wasn’t strictly necessary anyway, though Soundwave didn’t verbalize the presence of the contingency built into the cryptex with Prowl present, even over comms. Instead, he simply pinged Shockwave a copy of the frequency it was designed to broadcast on, confirming its functionality. “Further developments: not likely at this time.”

Prowl chuckled.

Knockout moved past Shockwave into the cell, who, on a commed command from Knockout, closed the door once the doctor was inside. “Hello Prowl, My name is Knockout. I’m a medic and I would like to conduct repairs.”

Prowl, still leaning against Soundwave’s leg, didn’t answer. The tac-comp noted the doctor’s presence, analyzed it and suggested ‘no action’. There was no sign that Prowl had consciously noticed the doctor at all.

Soundwave was still avoiding listening telepathically to Knockout, though he was paying close attention to where he was physically and to Prowl’s responses. As fast as the mech moved, there wouldn’t be much warning if he decided to attack. “Prowl: willing to receive repairs? Cooperation, requested.” Soundwave paired his words with a soothing EM projection, a partially subconscious gesture as he felt Prowl’s field for clues. It felt… awkward for him, depending on EM fields and not telepathy, but it was his best insight into what the corrupted code-thoughts were feeling right now, given they were the dominant mental state. 

Prowl’s EM field was placid, calm, where if flickered weakly against Soundwave’s own. Neither Soundwave’s request nor Knockout’s proximity affected the corrupt-code thoughts that Soundwave could see at all. Of course, he couldn’t precisely  _ read _ those thoughts. The simulator’s thoughts were all practical though, and not unaffected. How much energon the doctor had, how thick his armor was, the best places to attack… all the basics were there, but there were also a number of analysis-threads based on Autobot intelligence files and corrupt code. The ones evaluating attacking Knockout (and Soundwave) were overridden and ignored, but the ones simply concerned with evaluating them as a threat continued to suggest ‘no action’. 

Knockout commed, “What’s the verdict, Strong’n’Silent? Think we can get him up on the berth?”

“Prisoner: not actively aggressive. Seems calm. Attempt: feasible,” Soundwave answered Knockout, also over comms, before slowly bending down and reaching out to Prowl again. This time he moved toward Prowl’s nearest arm, rather than his doorwings. He didn’t attempt to grab yet, first just trying to see if Prowl would continue to allow the contact or if Soundwave could guide him to stand on his own.

Prowl didn’t react to the contact. His simulator became the louder ‘voice’ in his thoughts, its analysis becoming weighted toward the corrupt-code fed strings, but still suggesting, ‘no action’.

“Relocation, necessary,” Soundwave explained, hoping to prompt some sort of response. There was still no evidence his words were having any effect, however. Trying something bolder, he took Prowl’s arm and tugged upward gently. “Berth: preferable location for repairs.”

Prowl only chuckled — though Soundwave couldn’t be certain it was in response to his words — and his engine coughed in a way that made Knockout wince. The medic moved to take some of Prowl’s weight as well, and together they pulled him upright and maneuvered him onto the berth. Throughout the manhandling, the simulator just continued with the same conclusion: No action. No action. No action.

Once the mech was laid out on the berth, Knockout deftly reached over and disabled Prowl’s pain sensors — which the simulator switched back on automatically, but did nothing else. “How are you feeling, mech?” the doctor asked his patient gently, but looked to Soundwave for the answer. 

“Simulator, running continual analysis. Continued output: No action.” Soundwave paused briefly. “Pain sensors, back online.” Given how fast Prowl’s systems had reset them, Soundwave wasn’t sure they’d be  _ able _ to keep them offline. That was concerning, as some of the necessary repairs would be rather unpleasant without actual sedation or disabled sensors.

Knockout’s mental curse was loud enough for Soundwave to pick up telepathically even though he was still ignoring his thoughts, but the doctor let none of his annoyance bleed into his EM field or words. He stayed reassuring and calm. “That’s good. We’ll start with the simple stuff, alright mech? Prowl. Maybe when we’re further along you’ll trust me enough to make this painless for you. Repairs shouldn’t hurt.”

Prowl’s simulator had no opinion on whether repairs should hurt or not. He remained placid under the two Decepticons’ hands though, as the doctor kept a soothing running commentary of what he was doing.

“Going to remove this armor plate… it’s really thin. I’ll paint it with a layer of reinforcing nanites before putting it back on… Thank you. Now we’ll just take a look at these circuits. Good no damage to the circuits themselves, though your wiring is a mess. I’m just going to start replacing the wires. Tiny little sting… Just like that, good mech…”

It was soothing to Soundwave as well, almost hypnotic. With Knockout focused on his work, Soundwave tentatively let himself start listening to the doctor’s thoughts again. It made it easier to anticipate what the medic needed him to do and avoid getting in his way when they worked together on repairs this way.

Soundwave tried to make his hands on Prowl reassuring rather than restricting. He  _ hoped _ it wouldn’t be necessary to restrain the mech again, but he made sure he was in a good position to do so, just in case. Luckily, restraining Prowl didn’t seem to be an immediate issue… In fact, Soundwave had to concentrate to hear it past the simulator’s constant cycle of analysis-no action-analysis-no action, but the Prowl had fallen into recharge!

That was a surprise. Soundwave hadn’t anticipated that at all… which, he supposed, was par for the course with Prowl.

It was just a light recharge — nothing that made him truly vulnerable, since the tac-comp always stayed online, whatever the status of the rest of Prowl’s mind. But most mechs wouldn’t sleep even lightly through repairs! Soundwave wondered if they might accidentally startle him and provoke an attack, but since Prowl was still aware of what they were doing and allowing it, he decided on a ‘no action’ course of his own.

Relaxing physically, Soundwave sharpened his mental focus. It required a special kind of concentration to stay alert through the soothing ramble of Knockout’s words and the repetitive loop of the tac-comp. He was more than capable of listening without zoning out, however, and did so with ease. 

Knockout noticed Prowl had fallen asleep too — a recharging mech was different on his scanners than an aware one — but, after glancing at Soundwave to ensure he’d noticed as well, he bent back to his work. He did keep up his commentary, however, remembering that the the simulator continued to run as a background process while the mech slept. 

There was no getting around the reality that there was more than one session’s worth of damage to repair, but Knockout was determined to get as much done now as possible. Thus they worked together for joors, removing too-thin armor plates, replacing practically all the wiring beneath them (after trying repeatedly to disable Prowl’s pain sensors, only to have the simulator switch them back on each time), filling in cracks in his struts with solder, pounding out the dents in the armor, painting it with a nanite solution meant to help thicken it, then putting the armor plate back on. Miraculously, Prowl continued to doze, regardless of any discomfort.

Quite some time later, Knockout finally commed Soundwave again as he worked. “You want the good news or the bad news first?” he asked, keeping his vocal commentary up for his patient.

“Bad,” Soundwave answered. Had Knockout discovered something he didn’t have the means to fix?

Knockout’s chuckle echoed across their connection. "Given how fast he counter hacks… practically everything, there's no effective way to keep his subspace, T-cog and communications systems shut down once they're repaired. Ditto for knowing if he has anything in subspace right now, and ditto for guessing what communications frequencies he has access to. Once they're back online, that’s it, there's nothing we can do about it."

Well. That definitely counted as bad news. "Repairs: possible?" Prisoners typically had such systems disabled, but Knockout was right — nothing short of them being broken would prevent Prowl from being able to access them… and potentially use them against them. Still, it didn’t feel right to Soundwave, not repairing damage if it could be fixed.

"Oh yes," Knockout’s radioed voice was cheerful. "Not just possible, easy. There's very little wrong with those systems. His communications suite is missing some of the more breakable external pieces — antennae and such — and his self-repair has been cannibalising the metals of all three systems to supplement other, active systems, but it looks like he shut them down due to lack of energy, which perversely prevented some of the damages I'm seeing elsewhere. Which is actually the good news, from a time and resources standpoint: once his energy reserves have stayed up long enough, self repair'll fix those systems all on its own… even if I leave them as they are now."

"How long?" Soundwave would need to put a higher priority on determining what sort of threat Prowl posed and what they were going to do with him, if it was going to be soon.

"Frankly, given that the mech hasn't offlined from some of these other injuries… not long, unless you want to start starving him too." And Knockout's thoughts were very much in agreement with Soundwave’s on how not okay that would be. "Again, I can't give you an exact estimate without accessing his databanks, but I'd say no more than three decaorns, given I'm going to be repairing as much of everything else I can."

Three decaorns… Not long by Cybertronian standards, but relatively so in human terms. Assuming Knockout was correct, of course; Soundwave wasn’t about to trust a rough estimate like that after how often Prowl had surprised them already. 

Automatically Soundwave scaled back their timetable in his head and nodded, both to Knockout's proposed plan to repair the remainder of Prowl’s damage and to his unspoken disapproval of starving him. "Withholding energon: previously rejected." It hadn't been an acceptable method of trying to goad Prowl into opening the cryptex and it wasn't acceptable now, security issues notwithstanding. For all that three decaorns (conservatively half that) wasn’t long, it wasn't an unreasonable amount of time in which to make a decision.

Knockout didn’t express his relief that they were in accord, but Soundwave still felt it. The medic didn't like deliberately leaving repairs unfinished even more than Soundwave. As the one who installed the blocks that prevented prisoners from accessing those systems, however, he understood the security concerns Prowl's penchant for counter-hacking any foreign programming introduced. It would be false security, trusting them to be enough. He at no point considered removing those systems as a possible solution though… and Soundwave could tell that the doctor would react violently to the suggestion.

"Soundwave: will report development to Lord Megatron. Discussion of timetable, level of danger — high priority." Soundwave shuddered away from the idea of removing anything from Prowl himself, even if he was forced to consider it in the interests of security. Such radical measures were more in keeping with the Autobots, not them. If nothing else, keeping Prowl restrained through external physical means was still a possibility. Access to subspace or comms wouldn't help the mech hack a force field with an isolated generator or a thick beam across a door, if it came to it.

"You do that… and speaking of danger, his finger tips need replacing. I'd like to use some of the extras for my own hands, rather than the round ones I've got for Cliffjumper. Permission." His thoughts made it obvious why he was asking permission — Knockout's claws were fully capable of disemboweling a mech even without his circular saw. Replacing Prowl’s fingertips with some of Cliffjumper's spares might be safer, theoretically… but Knockout didn't think it actually would be.

Soundwave didn't believe round fingertips would stay round if Knockout installed them either. Prowl would just grind them down into points, giving him a weapon whether they give it to him or not. "Permission: granted."

Knockout was surprised to have gotten an agreement so quickly. Soundwave heard the arguments he’d been preparing stutter to a halt half-formed, and he stumbled a bit, not in his repairs or soothing commentary, but in his answer, "S-sir," which he  _ never  _ called Soundwave. "Of course."

Soundwave simply lifted a hand and pantomimed scratching it down the wall pointedly. He wasn't required to explain himself to Knockout, but he'd rather the doctor not make assumptions. He wasn't granting permission because he was hoping Prowl would be more comfortable with fingers he was familiar with. It was purely a matter of practicality.

"You noticed that too,” Knockout nodded. “He's damaging the fingertips to do that. Sharp and pointy, just like he wants them… and he'll just damage them again to resharpen them if we give him a dull set."  _ And there's nothing we can do to stop him, _ he thought, frustrated. He didn't bother to say it; he assumed Soundwave would know. "And I may not know anything about his particular psychosis, but given his animalistic behavior, I looked up some of the effects of removing the claws of animals here on Earth… in short, they often become even more aggressive and prone to erratic behavior."

Knockout  _ very carefully _ did not think about specifically what  _ sort _ of animals his research had focused on. His caution wasn't completely effective, since Soundwave was well aware of similar research and what animals were often studied, but the medic’s awareness did help prevent Soundwave from dwelling on the parallel. "Increased aggression, not desireable. Further injury, self harm — also not desirable." Soundwave regarded Prowl briefly before posing his next question. "Schedule for repairs? Next step — when?"

"Shouldn't be going this fast… but I'm almost done with the wiring, armor and strut damage,” Knockout answered. “Going to replace the fingertips, then let all that integrate before trying to move on to his hydraulics in… two days. After that I need to do his fuel and nerve-circuit repairs. Those he needs to be sedated for." He started painting the armor plate in his hands with the nanite solution. "He'll be sore while these integrate, especially given he won't leave his pain sensors off. I'd usually restrict a patient like this to bed rest, but I doubt  _ that's  _ happening, so he'll feel some pain and that might affect his behavior." 

That was a roundabout way of advising caution to Soundwave, but he didn't need it. Trying to approach Prowl while he was in pain and irritable from integration didn't strike him as a very good idea.

"Of course planning on doing the hydraulics two days from now is a  _ minimum…  _ it's really dependent on when he next lets me do repairs, since he can't be sedated."

"Acknowledged. Soundwave: continue interim observation remotely." Perhaps in that time Prowl would attempt to open the cryptex, either for the fuel it contained to assist his self repair or as a distraction from the discomfort. Even as he thought the latter, Soundwave dismissed it as unlikely. Prowl didn't seem to deal with discomfort or pain so much as ignore it, treating it as just one more piece of information.

"Alright… replacing his fingertips now." 

Soundwave could feel that this step made Knockout nervous, though he did a very good job of keeping it out of his EM field. The simulator had been very accommodating so far, but this would involve removing, however temporarily, the mech's weapons. So he proceeded cautiously: placing one of the replacements in Prowl’s hand, closing his fingers around it so that he could tell that it was sharp, pulling out all ten of the new fingertips and repeating the process, all the while explaining that he was going to take off the worn ones he had so that these new, better ones could be put on…

On the one hand, his caution seemed entirely warranted, while on the other the simulator seemed to accept the intent to replace Prowl's weapons with the ones it was being shown just fine. There was no approval, as such, but it judged the new claws to be better and thus suggested ‘no action’ in response to Knockout's proposed repair. Soundwave let Knockout know to reassure him, then waited for the medic to finish with his task.

Once again he listened to the running conversation and looping feedback with relaxed attention to catch any changes in Prowl’s processor. Nothing did change, not until Knockout was finished and sighing with relief as he cleaned up. The new claws stood out, glossy, black and deadly, against the dull grey of Prowl's native plating as he gathered his tools and left the cell…  _ that  _ met with the approval of the tac-comp.

Soundwave lingered a moment longer at Prowl’s side before following Knockout back into the medbay. The medic had already moved away from the cell, passing off dirtied parts and tools to his assistant along with instructions for dealing with them. Leaving them to it, Soundwave considered his own schedule. 

Pretty much the whole day was gone by now, given the amount of plating and wiring Knockout had had to strip, paint and replace, but Soundwave needed to report to Megatron, to update him on Prowl's status and condition. He was about to request a meeting with their leader when he saw a report from Shockwave in his inbox. The subject line indicated it was about Prowl; he should probably read it first then, before arranging to speak with Megatron.

He wished he had more definitive answers about Prowl. It bothered him that he still couldn't predict the mech, or assess how dangerous he might be in any given moment. He wanted to help Prowl, but could he really in good conscience advise that? Was it safe, when the longer he remained with them, the more dangerous he would become? But Soundwave wanted—

Not important. What mattered was getting clear direction from Megatron. Soundwave recognized that his ability to predict Prowl's behavior — and to an extent, his own — were not at their peak capacity. 

Thinking over what they knew so far, Prowl’s only clear and consistent motivation was energon… and a dislike of restraints. He was calm enough in a cell, but any kind of physical or coding restrains on his frame were met with attempts to escape and/or hack whatever was restricting him.

What could have been the cause of that? Prowl didn't show any signs that indicated Ratchet or any of the other Autobot sadists had gotten their claws on him. He hadn't been afraid of Knockout at all, and yet Soundwave was all but certain Ultra Magnus had hacked him, likely multiple times. It made sense a mech like Ultra Magnus would want to take advantage of that tac-comp… but he wasn't exactly an accomplished hacker, where Prowl  _ was  _ (if only by virtue of his brute computing power). The mech might not have firewalls, but he knew how to fight an intruder to his processor, how to overwhelm them and fend them off just like the sedation programs he’d so effortlessly taken down. So what had been going on between them…?

Soundwave shook his helm. It was too soon to draw any conclusions, no matter how strangely things seemed to be lining up. He didn’t have enough data yet; until they got a chance to look at Prowl's code more closely, there just weren’t any hard answers. 

And that definitely needed to wait.

So would talking to Megatron, Soundwave realized as he double-checked the time. Planning to review Shockwave's report before getting some recharge, and decided to speak with their leader about his concerns in the morning… after delivering Prowl his energon.


	6. Chapter 5

Laserbeak reported no new developments with Prowl the next morning. According to her report, he had spent the night much as he had the previous night: mostly under the berth slab in his proto-nest, occasionally coming out to prowl the room and scratch at the walls. He said nothing, and did not access the puzzle box.

Soundwave headed straight to the medbay, waving a short hello to Knockout before getting Prowl’s energon ready and going over to the cell door, checking to see where Prowl was and what state he was in before making any move to open it. According to the cameras, the mech was crouched near the door, optics locked on it and his doorwings in a wide, balanced position that indicated sharp focus and readiness. His feet and hands seemed similarly balanced; tense and ready to move. As Soundwave watched though, he didn't move, remaining so still that in a less empty room one might overlook his presence.

Telepathically, Soundwave could hear that the tac-comp was the dominant thought-thread at the moment. Dominant enough that when ‘telepathic intrusion code — source: Decepticon Soundwave 96% likelihood’ came up in Prowl’s thoughts, the tac-comp successfully ran ‘telepathic countermeasure alpha-6’, encrypting his thoughts and making them unreadable. The last thing Soundwave caught a glimpse of was that Prowl was tired, cranky and in pain from the repairs integrating… and he was hungry. 

He was planning on lunging for Soundwave when he opened the door (the tac-comp had noticed the lack of a force-barrier on this cell). He wanted the cube he knew Soundwave would bring, but it was a lower priority than the mech delivering it.

Rather than just opening the door himself, given the imminent attack waiting on the other side of it, Soundwave commed Knockout to assist. "Prisoner: waiting. Irritated, hungry.” The door was hung with the hinges on the outside to prevent an occupant from tampering with them, which meant that it swung outward into the main medbay. Opening the door only partway to allow passing energon through without leaving a gap wide enough for Prowl to fit through was possible, but he could try to push it open further if it wasn't braced properly, which Soundwave couldn't do while also passing the energon through. “May attempt to rush door.”.

Knockout pinged back an affirmative. "What do you need me to do?" In his thoughts, he was taking somehow getting the cube in to Prowl as a fact. It wasn't the mech's fault that repairs were putting stress on his fuel reserves, or even his fault his reaction to that was to potentially attack other nearby fuel sources.

Since Prowl wasn't a large mech, and there wasn't room inside the cell for him to build up much momentum (even if he hadn't been sitting right beside the door), Soundwave wasn't concerned about their ability to hold the door against him. "Brace door. Prevent prisoner from — pushing it open. Soundwave: needs hands free." Technically one hand would still be on the door, operating the latch and holding onto it, but the other needed to be completely free to pass in the cube.

Silently Knockout nodded and took up the indicated position, bracing the door. He and Prowl were nearly the same size, but his frame was designed to be heavy and strong so as to hold down combative patients. He pinged his readiness.

Soundwave moved to give the door room to swing open a little and reached for the latch, unlocking the door and pulling it outward and holding the energon out in his other hand within easy reach. It put his hand within reach too, and he rather expected to get bitten again, but holding it out of range seemed like the sort of thing that would just agitate Prowl more.

With an aggressive hiss, Prowl lunged… right past the cube, as his thoughts had indicated he might. It fell to the ground, bouncing into the cell as Prowl raked his new claws over Soundwave's arm. He was faster than Soundwave expected (though no matter  _ how  _ fast Soundwave expected Prowl to be, he always seemed to be faster), but didn’t try to get past him out of the cell. Instead, he was trying to drag Soundwave into it. 

It didn’t work, of course. The best Prowl managed was to put several deep rends in his arm with his claws, one of which slipped into a gap between armor plates and sliced an energon line clean through. The wound bled instantly, almost spraying, as Soundwave pulled back and slammed the door and locked it hurriedly.

Knockout cursed and almost before Soundwave regained his balance he was putting a pressure bandage on the wound and guiding him to a med berth to complete the repair. Soundwave only paid slight attention to the injury, largely ignoring the pain and Knockout's continued swearing except for an unsuppressable flinch in favor of focusing on Prowl on the other side of the door through the cameras.

Past Knockout’s very upset and conflicted thoughts about the injury (he'd thought — hoped really — that Soundwave would be safer from Prowl's predatory tendencies), Prowl’s thoughts were still encrypted. Soundwave couldn't read them, but he could see Prowl unselfconsciously licking his energon from where it splattered on the ground and across his plating on the camera. Only once he had licked up every drop of splattered energon did he turn his attention to the cube, opening and drinking it as well.

Soundwave wasn't surprised by that, since going after the energon that could evaporate first made sense. He was more frustrated by the encryption than the attack, though he didn't press to try to break those defenses.

As soon as Prowl licked away every drop of energon, he took the empty cube back to the nest under the berth, curling up and falling into recharge around it. The countermeasures continued to run, leaving Soundwave with no insight as to whether the fuel had helped to alleviate any of his irritability.

Not long after that, Knockout got Soundwave's attention by tapping on his armor. "Fixed," he sighed. "Standard precautions that I know you all generally ignore: no fighting with it, no straining it, and no flying faster than the speed of sound until it's finished integrating." He hesitated then sighed again. "And I'm sorry. I really thought we might get a repeat of yesterday, not… this."

Soundwave shook his helm slightly, laying his (undamaged) hand on Knockout's shoulder in thanks. "Cooperation: no guarantee. Fixation on energon: constant. Even yesterday." He didn't bother to comment on the doctor’s warnings; he'd honor them if he could, but of course, he could no more guarantee his complete cooperation than he could Prowl’s. "Increased aggression: possible side effect of active self repair. Higher demand for energon. Expected."

Knockout frowned; he knew all of that, except… "He was still thinking about eating you while he was… even yesterday?" He was not certain whether to be fascinated or horrified by the thought. He settled on horrified. Knockout thought that the desire for physical contact meant Soundwave had been elevated to some sort of… pack member, at least, rather than potential prey.  _ We might have to reconsider…  _ he shook the thought away before he finished it, reminding himself that it was out of his control.  _ I’ll have to update my report but— _

Soundwave's chronometer interrupted his eavesdropping, pinging a reminder that his scheduled meeting with Lord Megatron was in a breem. “Affirmative," he replied to Knockout’s spoken question. The notion of being viewed as prey was unsettling to him as well, but it was also becoming more normal, in a bizarre sort of way. It was still uncomfortable, naturally, but no longer as shocking, having seen it so often and so unwaveringly in Prowl's processor. "Soundwave: must go."

"Yeah." Knockout ran one last scan on his arm, then stepped fully back. "I understand. Take care, and don't strain yourself." Then he moodily started cleaning the medbay, still feeling guilty for the injury.

Soundwave didn't blame Knockout. If anything, he blamed himself for having hoped for a repeat of yesterday as well, even in the face of clear (to him) contrary evidence. In hindsight, it would have been smarter to place the cube on the floor and push it in with a nonliving implement. Next time he would try that instead. Knockout wouldn't be ready for Prowl to leave the medbay for a while yet, so they'd have to deliver energon to him in that room again somehow.

As he left the medbay and made his way silently down the halls towards his scheduled meeting, Soundwave shifted his focus from the specific incident to Prowl in general. He was both eager and somewhat nervous to discuss the situation with Lord Megatron. There was a fair amount to report, but while some things were very important, they weren’t exactly promising.

Megatron had scheduled this meeting to take place in an observation room, with a window overlooking Earth's ocean. Starscream was waiting with him; Soundwave heard the second in command's thoughts before even reaching the door, loud and dramatic as he was. The door opened immediately when he pinged for entry, and while Megatron was watching him keenly, Starscream had his back turned, wings flicking up and down dramatically as he watched the water below.

Megatron's eyebrow-plates drew close together in concern when he saw the new bandage. "What happened?" he rumbled gently.

"Prisoner: went after energon," he said simply, stating the fact for what it was. "Soundwave: source of energon."

Megatron didn't outwardly react to that, though inwardly Soundwave felt his shock and disgust. Those thoughts were almost drowned out by Starscream's though — his mind _screamed_ with the memory of his experience after the battle of the Hydrax Plateau, a memory so corrupted by his damage at the time that even Soundwave hadn't ever been able to determine whether it was real or imagined. The seeker’s wings froze as he worked at ~~hiding~~ controlling that reaction.

Soundwave let him believe he’d succeeded, and tilted his helm inquiringly at their leader. "Lord Megatron: would like to review the report?" he asked, queuing it up and sending a transmission request. He offered the file to Starscream as well, since he was present and had the clearance to view it.

Both accepted the report, and while Soundwave could sense Starscream reading it immediately, Megatron didn't. "I'm more interested in hearing what you have to say. I know speaking makes you uncomfortable, but I don't want you to hide behind formality right now. Please Soundwave, tell us what's going on."

That took Soundwave somewhat aback. It wasn't just that speaking was uncomfortable for him, it was  _ difficult.  _ The more complex what he needed to express was, the harder it was to say and the longer it took to get through. Writing reports was a convenient way around that, since it gave him time to compose his words in advance and prevented wasting his Lord's valuable time or frustrating anyone with his less than fully comprehensible sentences.

Megatron noted the hesitation and a sort of  _ concern/love _ mix filled his thoughts. "I know it's difficult, but it's important. Take your time."

Lord Megatron obviously wouldn't be dissuaded this time, and his reassurance did settle some of Soundwave's concerns. He nodded, and considered where to begin. There was a lot to go over, and wasn't sure how much he could get through before Starscream inevitably interrupted.

"Observations: prisoner, badly damaged. Starved. Reactions: centered on survival, energon. Evidence of scavenging, hunting, present. Condition: partially predates Autobots. However: evidence of hacking, deliberate injury — also present. Ultra Magnus: was not a kind captor. Often in Prowl's mind." Remembering the strange lack of reactions that would indicate he'd been at the tender mercies of the Autobot medics, Soundwave added, "Other Autobots: not in thoughts. Hypothesis: Ultra Magnus, kept prisoner for — access to tac-comp." 

Megatron nodded for Soundwave to continue, even as Starscream's wings started flicking in tentative interest. Soundwave brought up the technical analysis and frame specs Knockout had compiled on his mask to illustrate. "Advanced system, very powerful. Constant background process. Overrides sedations, pain blocks. Capable of large scale calculations; very fast. Physical and mental assessment: still incomplete. Preliminary conclusion: intelligence, present. Ability to reason: not always present. Behavior: sporadically violent." And there was the crux of the threat he represented — when he was violent, Prowl was fast, vicious, and brutally effective. The fact that he'd also exhibited cooperation didn't negate that danger, or the need to keep him contained, for the safety of everyone on the ship.

"Agreed," Starscream rasped, right on cue, and Megatron was somewhat annoyed at the interruption — he wanted Soundwave to keep talking, though he wasn't truly angry at Starscream, since he hadn't specifically told him to stay quiet. The seeker had managed to put aside the memory/hallucination, focusing on the evaluations of the tac-comp. He seemed to find those especially interesting, though that was perhaps not surprising given how closely he often worked with some of the Decepticon tacticians when they still had tac-comp equipped ones. "Though the indicated speed is remarkable. Your evaluations of separate 'threads' of thought seems to suggest a degree of separation between the computer and his base processor, but that kind of speed is only possible with a high degree of integrated thought."

"Affirmative: Prowl's processor, operating on different levels. Tac-comp, evaluates threats, actions; risk-vs-reward. At highest speed: Soundwave, encounters processing lag." Soundwave brought up a side by side of the real time analysis Prowl had made of solving the cryptex next to his own ability to follow it. "Additional layer, unparseable. Functional corrupt code. Often present, when prisoner speaks. Words, thoughts: both random…" he hesitated to voice the next part, largely because Starscream was present, but Lord Megatron wanted to hear his thoughts, "…and disturbing."

Starscream accepted that analysis, even as Megatron narrowed his optics. Neither of his officers were being disobedient, yet he was not getting the results he wanted. "Satisfied, Starscream?" Ah, so the second in command had insisted on being here for this meeting… apparently he was being pestered by Fowler about Prowl. "Since you're familiar with the subject, I'd like you to research the psychology of tactical computer equipped mechs. Your experiences should prove useful." 

Starscream seemed ready to protest, but then backed down, recognizing the implied dismissal from the meeting. "Of course Lord Megatron." Though the seeker was miffed by not being allowed to stay, he had gotten what he wanted: enough to assure Fowler and the Decepticon's other human allies that they were remaining on top of, and in control of, the situation. "I'll schedule time to consult with Soundwave and Knockout later." And with his wings held high, he left, the door swishing closed behind him.

Megatron looked back at Soundwave, his thoughts clearly stating that now that he'd gotten rid of the reason for his third's hesitation, he would like him to elaborate. He was patient though, saying only, "Please Soundwave," in encouragement. He stepped closer, offering physical comfort if it was needed.

Soundwave didn't speak again for a long moment, not moving except for a slight reflexive curl of his fingers toward the remembered brush of doorwings. "Knockout: wants to repair prisoner," he said at last, talking around the issue first. "Desired goal: possible rehabilitation." Even though Megatron couldn't see his face behind his mask, Soundwave turned away to continue. "Soundwave…wants to help Prowl. Prisoner: not enemy. Dangerous, yes. But—" The last word crackled off into static. "Apologies,” Soundwave recovered. “Soundwave: no longer fully objective in this case." There was a sense of failure about his EM field that he tried to mute, but couldn't completely suppress.

"You said before that he had invoked your memories of Ravage." Megatron said gently, offering his hand. "I must ask: is that still the case, and is it still potentially deliberate on his part?"

The declaration of a lack of objectivity didn't surprise him… Knockout's report, Soundwave realized, seeing it in his leader's thoughts. The doctor had noticed more than he wanted him to, more than he wanted to acknowledge, yesterday. Soundwave had wondered if Lord Megatron had already read Knockout's report and what it said, but at the same time hadn't wanted confirmation. Now that he had it, he still wasn't happy about it, and did not want to discuss it… but Lord Megatron had asked him a question, and difficult though it was, it was one he could and had to answer.

"Prowl… still evokes… memory," Soundwave admitted slowly, the words coming out quiet but clear. "Not as powerful, as before. Soundwave: did not see symbiotes, yesterday." The association between Prowl and Ravage had still been there, but it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. And more importantly— "Soundwave: does not believe it was intentional." Not in his behavior, anyway. Prowl had (maybe) brought up his cassettes deliberately in his ramblings and rhymes, but Soundwave couldn’t say for sure what he’d meant by his metaphors. But he definitely wasn't deliberately imitating Ravage in his movements; they were just similar, and Soundwave couldn't help but draw the parallels. His problem, not Prowl’s, though explaining that difference, subtle as it was, wasn't easy. "Movements: similar. Engine sounds, familiar." He paused, remembering the unhealthy burr his fingers had itched to repair even before Knockout had entered the room. "Prowl: not modifying either on purpose."

Megatron nodded solemnly. "That's good. Knockout noticed that he responded to you… and you to him. I want to make certain that you're safe, my friend. It would be very worrisome if he were invoking that memory on purpose."

"Safety of Decepticons: more important." Just what  _ had  _ Knockout put in his report? It wasn’t realistic to put personal needs ahead of the needs of the faction. Still, Soundwave appreciated the concern, and said as much. "Consideration: appreciated."

"Of course," Megatron said. "All the Decepticons are my concern. I am concerned with you. As a friend."

The words were a comfort, and Soundwave felt as though he should say something in response, but couldn’t. The harder he tried, the farther the words retreated in his processor, emotion throttling them down.

Megatron was patient, waiting while Soundwave fought his silent battle. When it was obvious that he was not going to answer — that he could not answer — his mind filled with compassion. "Would it help if I asked yes and no questions until you found your words, my friend?"

Soundwave nodded, almost too quickly. He disliked when his disability was so apparent, but at least with Megatron it wasn't as embarrassing as it was with some of the others. "Yes," he answered. "Soundwave: will try to elaborate."

Pleased, Megatron's thoughts filled with approval… and the knowledge that he was (while not pretending to feel something he wasn't) exaggerating those reactions because he knew Soundwave would pick up on them. He intended it as a sort of comfort, like the offer of physical comfort he still held open. "You've established that Prowl is not doing this deliberately, and that's good, but I must ask if your reactions are solely because of his similarity. Yes or no."

"…" Ironically, the very first question wasn't one Soundwave could answer immediately, even with a yes or no. He needed to consider carefully before he could reply either way, given the pull he continued to feel to help Prowl… but he would have felt that way regardless, even if Prowl hadn’t reminded him of anyone, he realized. "No," he finally articulated, "not solely because of his similarity."

"You've said you want to help him. Do you want to be personally involved in that? If he makes you uncomfortable, someone else can be assigned to him…"

"Soundwave: wants to be involved," he confirmed swiftly, stressing the syllables as much as he could. Inside he cried out against the thought of not being able to see Prowl again. He examined that reaction, wondering at its strength and trying to track its source.

Megatron smiled, having not expected any different. Soundwave was a very kind individual to his mind and he knew him very well. But he had to give the option. "That's good. Knockout says he responded very strongly to you and that continued interaction would be good for him. But it's not something I would force on you, my friend."

Knockout's report also apparently stated that Soundwave had responded strongly to Prowl, though Megatron wasn’t currently thinking of the details Knockout had reported. Soundwave wasn't comfortable dwelling on the truth of those observations. While part of him was still curious about why the attraction was there, the rest shied away from looking too closely at it, and the ghosts it brought up.

Prowl responding to him, however, wasn't as unsettling to contemplate. Discussing how working with him might help Prowl was something Soundwave could do. "Soundwave: favors continued interaction."

"Objectivity is understandably difficult in cases like this, isn't it? But he is not an enemy combatant and therefore compassion is not a failing, but a strength. Still, I want to know what, if anything, you see coming from continued interaction, both if his condition improves and if not…" It wasn't worded as a question, but there was an invitation to answer beyond yes or no, if Soundwave was ready.

Soundwave hesitated. He could see too many possibilities; things he hoped for, things that were undesirable, things that were realistic… Trying to choose which ones to bring up, which were most likely, was impossible.

Megatron nodded before the silence became too noticeable. He knew his lieutenant was self-conscious about not being able to find his words, so he didn't let conversational pauses drag out. "Does that," he gestured to the new wound on Soundwave's arm, "change anything?" He was worried about it, that it meant that Prowl would hurt those trying to help him. He thought it was the sort of thing that resulted from carelessness… though he had a hard time truly believing that of Soundwave.

"No," Soundwave said, reassuring Megatron even though he believed it was a form of carelessness himself. He should have thought their approach through better… but now they knew, for next time. "Future injuries: possible," he admitted, knowing they weren’t just possible, but likely. "Better precautions, will be taken. This: changes nothing."

"It's difficult to imagine that a mech so willing to seek comfort in a mech one day would be willing to attack that same mech the next." Sensing this was perhaps a slightly safer topic, Megatron gave another not-question for Soundwave to answer.

"Energon: primary focus. Active self repair, results in increased need." Again, that was in his report, but Soundwave tried to explain. "Situation, different." Dealing with Prowl needed to be done on a case-by-case basis; they weren't at the point where building any sort of relationship that could overcome that base drive was possible. "Past behaviors, indicative only. Each encounter: unique."

Megatron was quite pleased he had answered, though disturbed to be reminded that this mech had no qualms about fueling from others' lines. "So if I were to allow, or even encourage, the two of you to interact once he's moved back to the brig, what precautions would you take?"

"Precautions against escape, when anyone enters." That was the most important thing to Soundwave's mind, more important than his own safety. "Ability to enter and exit: must be controlled."

"Of course." Megatron had meant personally, not with the cell, though he was satisfied that Soundwave chose to answer at all. "That is much more easily done with the brig cells than the one in the medbay, it seems." He frowned slightly. He'd never believed he'd ever have cause to curse the Autobots for not being stringent enough with a prisoner, but the medbay cell seemed remarkably insecure now that the Decepticons had an actual prisoner in it rather than just using it as storage space. Of course, prisoners in the medbay were generally kept secured to the berths, negating the need for more security than there was, but the lack of force fields still felt like an oversight.

"Medbay cell: inferior," Soundwave agreed. He hadn't been deliberately misinterpreting Megatron's question about precautions, but general safety had been the first thing to come to mind. "Personal precautions: assess prisoner telepathically, before approach. Indicators of positive reactions, violent reactions, observable." He had a list of said indicators, but sharing it would do little good. Telepathic impressions were difficult to express to mechs without his ability.

"What sorts of indicators?" Megatron asked anyway, much more of a personal question from his own curiosity, Soundwave could tell. He knew he couldn't hope to understand fully, but he always wondered. 

Soundwave knew from past, similar questions that he would be satisfied with very general answers that others might take as brush-offs. "Active psychic countermeasures — negative indicator. Exclusive calculations, analysing fuel acquisition; also negative." Since part of Prowl's processor tended to be constantly assessing anything and anyone around him as a source of energon, the key to that one was the lack of any other thoughts. "Corrupt code… positive."

That the mech possessed psychic countermeasures at all was startling to Megatron — only a few autobots (and even fewer Decepticons) were known to have them, and all of them were amongst the ranks of spies, saboteurs and torturers: Jazz, his twin, Arcee, the near-mythical Mirage. More startling was Soundwave’s assertion that the corrupt code-thoughts were a positive indicator. Still, he didn't question Soundwave. He knew he had no hope of understanding how his telepathy worked, and trusted him with it implicitly. 

"Suggestion: increase energon rations for Prowl," Soundwave put forward, switching to a topic his lord  _ would  _ be able to follow. "Aggressive behavior, may be lessened by higher fuel levels."

Megatron winced again, reminded of the reason Prowl chose to attack. "We have enough, I see no harm in it." And if any benefit could come of it, so much the better. 

"Once you've determined it's safe to enter the cell with him, what will you do?" That question was slowly building towards the one that had frozen Soundwave earlier; he was hoping that approaching the question more slowly would help him put together a response.

"Talk." Meaning Soundwave would try, stiltedly, to see if Prowl was feeling conversational, and if not, they would sit in silence. "Let Prowl lead." He would learn more about him that way, and it felt wrong trying to force anything on him. "…t…ch…" He wanted to touch Prowl again, but the tangled knot of emotions behind that desire muted the word, degrading the sound quality into static.

Megatron noticed the stutter. That had never happened since Soundwave began using recordings to bypass the damage to his vocalizer and the trauma to his processor… "It's good that you are aware of the dangers; still, compassion can cloud judgement," he said, not unkindly. He approved of Soundwave's compassion, in fact. "Would you be averse to Knockout overseeing these interactions, and all other things regarding Prowl's," and Soundwave's, followed the thought, there and gone so quickly that Soundwave knew he wasn't meant to catch it, "treatment?"

Soundwave fought down a short surge of frustration over the idea that Knockout was trying to construct a treatment plan for both of them, and had presented it as such to Megatron. It didn't last long; being angry meant thinking about it, and thinking about it… well, there was nothing to think about. What mattered was Prowl, and helping him recover. This wasn't about Soundwave. 

"Knockout's presence, acceptable." It would be wise to have him nearby in case of another accidental injury, and from the standpoint of ensuring objectivity and security. Which brought up an important concern. "Knockout: says repairs will result in reactivation of certain systems: subspace, transformations, communications."

Megatron frowned. He was aware of this, but still distinctly unhappy about it. "Yes," he drew out the word consideringly. He knew as well as Soundwave that access to transformation and subspace both meant keeping an armed mech confined… a difficult prospect. Soundwave, he knew, would have a better idea than he of what sort of dangers an active communications system could mean. "Have you considered the issue at all? Knockout believes we have some time to prepare before the prisoner's self-repair finishes with those systems, and you are our security expert. Best take the time to do it correctly while we have it."

"Knockout’s estimate: too generous. Soundwave: would prefer to err on the side of caution." The last thing he wanted was to have Prowl's systems come back online before they'd finished readying a permanent cell. "Force field controls, need to be taken off network. Manual controls, installed. Communication blocks, shields — also need to be installed." He didn't expect Prowl to try to communicate with anyone, but ensuring he couldn't was still the smart thing to do. "Physical backup in case of power failure — recommended."

Those assessments all made sense, and Megatron nodded in approval. He didn't expect Soundwave's judgement to be too badly clouded to manage such tasks… ever. "If extensive modifications to the brig cell are needed," and with the precautions suggested, both mechs were aware that they would be, "I suggest consulting with Starscream on the project. I will do my best to ensure he has time for it." 

"Soundwave: had hoped to consult with Starscream." The seeker was a brilliant engineer; he just happened to be an even better flyer, fighter and commander. Still, he was probably the best suited to coming up with a way to make everything they would need doable in the short time frame they had available. "Also: would like to consult with Cliffjumper."

Megatron just raised his brow-ridge armor. The initial report had indicated Soundwave believed Cliffjumper had told him everything of use and that there was no need to bring up this issue with him again, given how uncomfortable it made him. Mentally he invited Soundwave to elaborate, though the permission was assured regardless. He still considered Soundwave in charge of Prowl, even with Knockout's oversight.

"Previous discussion, centered on intellectual abilities. Processor upgrades. Possibility of restored transformations, not considered," Soundwave explained. "Cliffjumper: may have ideas — weapons systems to look for, ward against." He doubted the mech would have an exhaustive list; his Prowl had been a ranking officer, his full specs classified, but Cliffjumper might still be able to give them a starting point. It was worth asking, even if it would make Cliffjumper uncomfortable to have to talk about it again.

"Of course," Megatron murmured, remembering Cliffjumper's uncanny accuracy when predicting specialized systems (and occasionally classified ones) among the higher-ranked Decepticons and Autobots. Even when the events that had resulted in those unique systems hadn't duplicated themselves (like Grimlock's unique alt form), the systems themselves had. This disturbed him on a level he refused to contemplate for long, putting it out of his mind too quickly for Soundwave to analyze, as usual.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" Megatron offered, making sure that Soundwave knew he could come to him. They were friends, and he did not like watching Soundwave hurting, but he also didn't wish to force him to accept the comfort he was offering…

"Soundwave: will proceed to prepare adequate security measures." He stood stoically for a moment, then raised his uninjured hand out toward Megatron, seeking. Megatron took it unhesitantly and gently tugged to let him know he was welcome to whatever he needed.

Following that pull, Soundwave leaned in close against the larger mech, careful of his injured arm. Megatron wrapped his arms around him, sheltering and comforting… and pleased that Soundwave would seek this out from him, even if it required patient waiting through the entire conversation and offering first for him to ask.

Soundwave allowed his lord's presence and the sound of his engine to drown out his thoughts, relaxing, just for a little while.


	7. Chapter 6

After spending as long as he felt he could allow himself with Megatron, Soundwave finally pulled away and left his lord, intending to find Cliffjumper to discuss Prowl one more time.

Cliffjumper was clearly visible in the mess hall on Soundwave’s surveillance-scape. Most of the crew had gotten used to him and, in addition to the two seekers, there were several other mechs at his table. If it weren’t for the fact that the Autobot still determinedly kept his back to the wall, Soundwave would have said he looked perfectly comfortable there.

The mess hall wasn’t a good location for the conversation Soundwave needed to have with the mech, but he was relatively close to it. He turned his steps in that direction; he would simply have to have Cliffjumper follow him somewhere more private to ask his questions.

Cliffjumper looked up briefly as Soundwave walked in. In the chaotic swirl of thoughts, the Autobot’s were easy to pick out by the brief flare of purely automatic threat response then the just as automatic throttling back of that response. He looked away, returning to his conversation until it was clear Soundwave was coming over to him. He tried not to assume he was in trouble…

Soundwave stopped just beside the table and nodded to Cliffjumper before speaking. “Consult, needed. Cliffjumper: will come with Soundwave.” He didn’t want to say too much here, given the classified nature of the subject, but he did feel bad that he was once again putting Cliffjumper on edge.

_ Fuck. I AM in trouble, _ Cliffjumper thought as he stood, giving the table a careless grin. “Duty calls. Catch you guys later.” Among the varied goodbyes, Soundwave could hear him trying to remember what he had done recently that he could be in trouble for. He hadn’t even had the chance to do anything reckless recently, let alone something that could bring down a reprimand from the third in command.

Soundwave led Cliffjumper to an unoccupied room down the hall rather than going all the way to the monitor room. There were other mechs on shift there right now, and the generic room was suitable enough once the door was closed and Soundwave had blocked the surveillance with a Classified Meeting in Progress tag. 

“Soundwave: has additional questions concerning the prisoner.” He opened with, hoping that Cliffjumper would make the connection quickly and realize that he was not in trouble, though he expected the Autobot still wouldn’t be pleased.

As anticipated, Cliffjumper immediately stopped trying to figure out what he'd done and his thoughts turned to the not-pleasant topic of Prowl. He'd been unable to not-think about the prisoner either,  _ especially the way Prowl mentioned the gods without—  _

The thought screeched to a halt, words suddenly garbling as Cliffjumper engaged his telepathic countermeasures. Not a thought he wanted Soundwave to read, even if he wasn’t certain he could. "Yes sir?" he asked, giving a pretty good outward impression that nothing was wrong.

It was frustrating to encounter those measures again. Soundwave's curiosity chafed at being blocked, but Cliffjumper was a comrade; he would respect his privacy. Trying to work around the block might alert the mech to its necessity anyway, which was undesirable in any event. "Current brig setup: suitable for short-term prisoners only," Soundwave explained. "Long term solution, must be devised."

"Alright," Cliffjumper said, and Soundwave felt the countermeasures slowly disengage. He didn't have the processor or personality to run them constantly, so they were packed up as soon as he was no longer thinking about whatever it was that he wanted to hide. "I can take a look at the brig, let you know what I'd do to break out, if that's what you want."

Soundwave hadn't thought to ask that, but immediately saw the value in it. "Assessment: would be appreciated." He tilted his helm questioningly as he made his next inquiry. "Full specifications, classified. Soundwave knows, understands. However. Knockout, confirmed — prisoner's transformation capability, will be restored. Cliffjumper: know which weapons systems may come online?"

It took the mech a moment to puzzle through that. Not because he was confused by the words, but because he was as familiar with prisoner protocol as Soundwave. Prisoner camps put their charges into stasis. If that was the plan, he thought, Soundwave wouldn't be asking. Then he focused on the phrase ‘long-term’ and remembered that he himself was capable of hacking weapon and transformation blocks given enough time.  _ So, Prowl's weapons— _ "Acid rifle," he answered almost before the thought had formed. "That's his standard weapon. His secondary weapon is a gear-shredder. At least, those are what mine had."

His assertion was accompanied by visual memories of fighting alongside Prowl, and Soundwave saw how he used them. Precision weapons. One shot might not always have equaled a kill, but his aim was exquisite and his choices of weapons were designed to maximize his seemingly natural ability to calculate range, velocity, and positions on the fly… and do as much damage with a single shot as possible.

There was no question in Soundwave's mind that this Prowl, whether he had the same weapons systems or not, would be just as deadly efficient at wielding whatever he had.

The acid rifle was the more immediately concerning, since it posed a unique problem as far as securing a long-term holding cell. Soundwave sent a note to Knockout to look for both it and the gear-shredder as he continued his repairs.

Knockout's immediate response to the notification was to ping back, "Fragging  _ great." _

Soundwave let that go without comment. "Preparations: must be made for the possibility," he said to Cliffjumper. Just what preparations could be made to acid proof a cell, among other things… Well, that went on the agenda of things to discuss with Starscream. "Transformations, not the only restored system. Subspace access, communications capabilities, also returning." 

Cliffjumper didn't even blink. He could hack— Countermeasures, though this time they quickly eased off, just hiding that single thought. "He had an upgraded communications suite, since he had to be able to communicate with everyone despite any battlefield jamming. I don't think it was as advanced as a comm specialist's though, because when he was out in combat there was always a comm specialist nearby to boost his signal. His subspace…" There he hesitated, furrowing his brow-ridge as he searched his memory. "Bigger than a combat assist drone, smaller than a portable missile turret."

Those examples weren't random, as flippant as his tone was trying to be. Cliffjumper’s Prowl apparently used combat assist drones often, and he had once assisted in the set up one such missile turret on a battlefield, though he was unable to carry any of the larger pieces.

"Prowl: used such drones often?" Soundwave asked for the verbal confirmation. Given the state Prowl was in, Soundwave didn't know how likely it was that the mech would have a combat drone in his subspace, but the fact that those systems were shut down a long time ago to preserve them meant anything in subspace would likely be in better condition than the mech himself.

"Almost always," Cliff answered. "It was just a standard drone." Several standard drones; Prowl apparently had no emotional attachment to them and thus no issues sacrificing them. "He networked with it and commanded it the same way he coordinated troops."

At least it would be relatively easy to dispatch if he was carrying one then. "Any other weapons, tools, typically carried?"

A shrug. "First aid kit, back up weapon, energon knife," one of Jazz's auxiliary spec-ops dirty-tricks kits, he assumed. But that wasn’t an issue here because Jazz— he stopped himself from thinking further. He didn’t engage any countermeasures, but automatically changed the subject in his own mind. "The usual. Nothing special."

"Typical inventory, standard precautions," Soundwave intoned. Barring the possibility of the drone, anyway. Though a combat drone would not require special modifications to the cell, just awareness on the part of any mech entering it until they could confirm the contents of Prowl’s subspace. "Insight: appreciated. Prior to brig assessment — Cliffjumper: think of anything else that may be helpful?"

"About Prowl specifically?" He shook his head. "His stats were classified." Most of Cliffjumper's knowledge about Prowl’s weapons and subspace capacity came only from battlefield memories.

"Understood." It was what Soundwave had expected, and the information Cliffjumper did have from fighting alongside the mech was more than he'd anticipated. It might not be a complete list, and it might not all apply to the mech currently locked up in the medbay, but it was all good information to take into account.

"We checking out the brig now then?" Cliffjumper shrugged. "I'm game."

"Affirmative: proceed to brig."

Cliffjumper had never been in the  _ Victory's _ brig before. His optics flicked over it as he stalked in, from the interrogation room that had been stripped of all its equipment to the cameras. For a moment Soundwave thought he might be losing where — in which universe – he was: automatic anti-interrogation protocols responded to the concepts of Decepticon Brig + Soundwave and locked down his thoughts, brought up firewalls, and started counter-hacking prisoner protocols… 

He took a very deliberate step away from Soundwave that brought him no closer to the cell he was supposed to be assessing. Soundwave waited patiently, giving Cliffjumper his space and letting him step away. His only move was to slide sideways somewhat, leaving a path to the door they entered through open, hoping it would help him not feel cornered.

Impressively Cliffjumper’s weapons didn't engage and he got control of himself after just a moment. He covered his reactions by taking the time to identify all the surveillance equipment he could, including several cameras Soundwave thought were fairly well hidden. "Good coverage, but it's only as good as the person watching,” he said. “You're magic with surveillance equipment, but even you go off-shift occasionally."

That was an unfortunate truth; even staggering recharge with Laserbeak, there was still only so much Soundwave could personally oversee. The compliment was nice to hear, however.

Trying to convince himself he was past his near-slip more than he truly was, Cliffjumper stomped deliberately into the open cell. He looked around the small space from the inside, focusing, for the moment, on the mess of circuitry and metallic shards in Prowl's nest. He reached down to pull out a piece. "Shiv." He tossed that one aside, then pulled out another. "Shiv. Shiv. Could probably use this one," he said as he tossed it into the pile, "to pry off wall-panels. Shiv." He continued, the task slightly calming for him since it was unlike anything else resembling his training, fears, or experiences from his home universe. 

In fact, he was starting to think of it a bit like one of Jazz's training exercises. How to break out of prison 101.

He wondered briefly how much this strange, twisted version of Prowl would react to someone messing around with his nest like this, before resolutely not worrying about it. Prowl wouldn't be in a position to target Cliffjumper with his tantrum if he cared. "Might want to stick to giving him soft things to nest with," he said though. "That is, if you're planning to continue letting him do it."

"Let: wrong choice of word." Soundwave didn't think they could  _ stop  _ him from doing it.

Cliffjumper snorted.  _ You could stop him if you really wanted to, _ he thought.  _ Stasis cuffs, chaining him to the wall, electro-torture…  _ The Soundwave he knew would have done any or all of those things. But reminding himself of the difference in that way seemed to give him the last boost he needed to get (relatively) comfortable being in the brig with  _ this _ Soundwave. "Definitely stick to soft things then. Try and keep the scraps smaller than your hand, so he can't make anything out of them."

"Good advice," Soundwave agreed. He'd already wanted to get Prowl mesh blankets anyway. It would be more comfortable, besides being less dangerous, and he would much rather think of ways to improve Prowl's situation than dwell on what Cliffjumper had been thinking. That mech wasn't him, would  _ never _ be him.

Cliffjumper made a circuit of the cell, wincing at the claw-marks. He pegged them as the result of a mech sharpening his claws immediately, but didn't say anything because he assumed Soundwave was perfectly aware of how they had happened. "Plating's good. Won't stand up to an acid rifle, if that's really a concern. I don't know how to improve it though."

"Soundwave: will consult Commander Starscream." Hopefully the seeker would have some ideas, because Soundwave didn't. "Preventing escape: essential." For the safety of the Decepticons aboard the  _ Victory, _ of course, but also for Prowl's own protection.

"Yeah. I get it. Can't have a feral mech running around where he'll get into stuff."

It was a curious choice of words. "Feral?" Soundwave repeated, uncertain what Cliffjumper meant by it.

"Yeah, feral," he repeated, thinking Soundwave just hadn't run across the English word before. "Wild, undomesticated, fierce, ferocious, savage, untamed…?"

"Meaning: familiar. Application: unfamiliar." Soundwave tried to rephrase. "Feral: does not describe Cybertronians."

Cliffjumper blinked. That… didn't quite compute. Cybertron had wilds, had wild mechanimals. Why not feral Cybertronians? "Sir?" He decided not to argue, since he didn’t want to trigger a flashback by being thrown in the brig now, even if it was only for his usual disciplinary issues. There were enough of those on his record that being thrown in the brig by various officers was not a new concept to him.

Internally Soundwave blanched at his casual attitude towards incarceration. He would never throw someone in the brig simply for disagreeing with him! For infractions that warranted it, yes, but disagreeing wasn’t one of them. Especially if Cliffjumper refrained from being obstinate, loud, or public about it. "Feral Cybertronians: incapable of survival in the wild." 

Cliffjumper shrugged. "There's always stories. That thing Skywarp's obsessed with has ferals as part of its mythology… You telling me it's got no basis in something real?" Humans had a saying about the relationship between myths and reality, he thought. Things might not be true how a story presented them, but often there was something true in them, if only because the story was a reflection of the story-teller's perception of the world.

There might be something to that — the Cybertron of the past was different than the more modern wilds, and the possibility of surviving back then might indeed have been easier. They all had a tendency to regard the distant past as mere legend and not give it much thought. And Prowl’s strength and agility really were remarkable (in spite of his damage), and while he wasn’t really sane, neither was he completely irrational… Still, the thought of Prowl actually being feral seemed farfetched to Soundwave. Could he really have survived on his own in the wartorn wilds of Cybertron?

"Possibility: undocumented. Not unproven," was all he was willing to concede.

Cliffjumper shrugged to that too. Ferals were always hard to document by their very nature. Letting the subject drop, he continued looking around the cell. "Force field entry/exit… pretty secure." He stepped out of the cell and started looking over the rest of the  _ Victory's _ brig. "I'm not—"  _ Jazz, nothing could keep him locked up  _ "—not the best, but other than what I've said, I don't see any way to escape without someone opening the force field first. You, presumably."

Soundwave was grateful it wasn't Jazz they were trying to contain — any version of him. It was an ongoing exercise in frustration, coming up with things Jazz couldn't eventually crack or slip out of. He would much rather over-prepare to contain Prowl and discover they'd wasted their effort than have something go wrong and him find a way to escape. "Controls: will be on isolated systems."

Nodding, the Autobot continued to search the room, even though he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. Escape routes — his mind noted the vents — but also something else. "Transport's always when security's the weakest," he said, almost by rote.

"Affirmative." Transport and, in this case, interaction. "Other weak points: energon delivery, additional repairs." Basically any time they needed to get into the cell, whether or not they needed to bring Prowl out of it.

"Yeah," Cliffjumper agreed, still lost in that not-quite-here space. "Interrogation and turning him into a test subject too."

Soundwave winced, remembering Cliffjumper's initial assumptions when he found out about Shockwave's tests. " _Rehabilitation,_ " he stressed. "Protection."

That jerked Cliffjumper out of the funk he'd fallen into. At first he seemed confused, then, remembering his own words, his optics bleached to a disturbed and worried white. "Sorry! I didn't mean that the way it sounded." It wasn’t meant to sound like a suggestion, he thought frantically. It was just that… he'd been thinking of this brig exercise as a sort of training sim. Like one of the many things Jazz had done to train them — him and the other (full-time) agents. How To Escape From A Decepticon Brig 101. And Jazz had always stressed that being taken for interrogation or hauled away as a test subject were opportunities to escape. "I think I got a bit carried away," he finally said, trying to sum up those thoughts. "Sorry."

"Soundwave: not offended." Not personally, anyway. The context helped and Soundwave could understand. Cliffjumper was absolutely right — any time a prisoner was brought out of their cell, for any reason, it was a window of opportunity for escape. However, "Reminder: Decepticons, do not torture or experiment on prisoners."

"I know." He was mostly convinced, and willing to take Soundwave's word for it… which felt extremely weird to him. But then, Shockwave was  _ yellow…  _ There were weirder things about this place than trusting Soundwave not to torture anyone.

There was nothing Soundwave could really say to that. Instead, he tried to steer the conversation back on topic. "Thoroughness, appreciated. Cliffjumper: thinks differently. May see things Decepticons would miss."

"Thanks." He wished he could be more help… which also felt weird… but Jazz was the escape artist. He, Cliffjumper, hadn't really gotten caught much. Scouts weren't, very often. They hid, and when they couldn't hide, they were allowed to shoot their way out, which mostly prevented situations where getting caught alive was an issue. Not until that last interrogation before Starsc— Not thinking about that. He just wasn't the escape genius Jazz was.

"Other observations?" Soundwave asked, amused as well as unsettled by by the overheard thought. No one was the escape genius Jazz was.

Cliffjumper hesitated. “You said he might need to be moved for rehabilitation,” he said, no longer talking about the cell. "Ferals don't usually process stuff the way the rest of us do anymore. It's one of the reasons they're feral… not sure there'd be much use in rehab after a certain point." Way back before the planet started dying from lack of energon, the Autobots had hauled a feral away from one of their operating areas, he remembered.  _ Prime eventually made us let him go because the wretch was dying. His spark couldn't survive in a cell…  _ He shook off the memory. It was old, very old, and even though he was obviously crazy, Cliffjumper had a hard time truly equating Prowl with that mech.  _ We never even knew his name… _

"Attempt: should be made," Soundwave said, wanting to try — needing to, even.

"I hear you."  _ You're going to get your spark broken. _

_ Too late.  _ Soundwave recognized the word for ember from Cliffjumper's thoughts. He backed away from his mind a bare nanoklik later, so fast he physically leaned away. Turning the movement into a careful, deliberate step, Soundwave walked around slowly to examine the same points Cliffjumper had looked at. The vent was big enough for a drone, but not for a mech, and well-sealed. No worries there. He added several observations and notes to the list of things he planned to discuss with Starscream as far as constructing a secure cell. Tops on that list were the possibilities of an acid rifle and a way to secure comings and goings more effectively. Perhaps a form of airlock, or even a secondary adjoining room.

Cliffjumper waited patiently for Soundwave to complete his circuit of the room. He didn't believe there was anything he could use to get out — he considered his best bet to be overpowering a guard during transit — but he could admit to himself that he wasn't the mental powerhouse his Prowl was, and this crazy-feral version might be very different still. He was curious about— not thinking about that.

Nodding for Cliffjumper's benefit to indicate he was finished, Soundwave stopped moving and turned to face him once more. "Cliffjumper: raises good points. Soundwave: will consult with Commander Starscream."

Cliffjumper shifted from one foot to the other indecisively. Was that a dismissal?

"Dismissed," Soundwave confirmed. "Duty roster, adjusted. Cliffjumper: not on duty for another shift." Rearranging the schedule to allow him a break was only fair. He'd perform better if given a chance to settle his processor anyway.

"Thanks, Sir." Not one to look gift off-shift time in the mouth, Cliffjumper scooted out the door, intending to do something _ less disturbing _ for a while. Internet surfing! Or maybe sneak into— He moved out of telepathic range, not a moment too soon.

That left Soundwave with time to kill while he waited to hear from Starscream about when they could meet. He had his duties to see to, of course, but part of him wondered… Cliffjumper didn't think there was hope for Prowl. Was there any way to determine one way or another whether rehabilitation was really worth pursuing? They didn't have any data on the state of Prowl's processor and coding yet; those scans were still pending… 

They'd had to leave the library back on Cybertron, which limited Soundwave’s ability to research the concept of feral mechs. Not that there would have been much to find outside of what few legends referenced such things. He would do better surfing the net for feral animals on Earth and how to deal with them.

Several searches later, the results Soundwave had said that feral animals lacked both the socialization that domestic ones had, and much of the innate fear of humans their fully wild counterparts had, making them harder to tame. That was discouraging, but finding that going feral really only happened on Earth to young animals was a positive discovery. Prowl had to have been an adult — Cybertronians didn't have a juvenile period — at the time he went ‘feral’, and the existence of his tac-comp meant he had to have lived as a civilized Cybertronian long enough for it to integrate, at the very least.

Besides, there was a difference between taming a wild or feral animal and trying to rehabilitate someone with severe mental trauma. It wouldn't be a fast process, but that just meant establishing effective long term accommodations was even more important. It didn't mean the whole endeavor was pointless.

Cliffjumper was wrong. 

He had to be.

.

.

.

Having spent a large portion of the day researching cases of feral animals and even rumors of feral humans, Soundwave returned to the medbay that evening in better spirits. What he'd found hadn't been perfectly applicable, of course, but he had found cause to hope. He felt much more certain about continuing their efforts with Prowl rather than giving up. He also felt better for having secured permission for increased rations, though he planned to be more careful about delivering them this time.

Vaguely present in his processor as he entered the room was the question of where Knockout was… A check the surveillance-scape revealed he was running an errand in the cargo hold and would be back momentarily, while a check of the security cameras inside the cell showed that Prowl was not waiting by the door this time. In fact, he wasn’t showing up at all!

Soundwave moved over to the cell quickly to do a telepathic sweep. Prowl probably just wasn't visible because he was hiding under the slab or in a blind spot beneath the camera… Sure enough, Prowl's mind was in there thinking his usual hungry thoughts, but also contemplating the camera from an extremely close angle. Soundwave narrowed his focus, trying to pinpoint Prowl's location in the cell and work out what about the camera had caught his attention. 

Prowl's telepathic presence was coming from — up? Was he above the camera? The fuzzy images of the video feed supported the theory, as Soundwave realized what had appeared to be poor image quality at the edges of the frame was probably the camera trying and failing to focus with Prowl so close to it. Somewhat startled, Soundwave added another consideration to his list regarding the new cell. Whatever they do to the walls, apparently they needed to be aware of Prowl not only scratching at them, but climbing them.

The thoughts Soundwave could hear consisted of a (probably inevitable) speculation of whether or not the camera was edible, but also something else, something corrupt-code based that felt, nevertheless, deliberate. Methodical, even, as the tac-comp ticked down through possibilities Soundwave couldn't understand. Eye for an eye… wires played like strings, images that vibrated along the highest probability… touch as essential as sunlight…

Intrigued again by the corrupt code, Soundwave tried once more to follow it since Prowl wasn't actively countering him. The code fritzed, changing on a seemingly random basis, but there was something… Information. If Soundwave wasn't so familiar with the  _ Victory's  _ surveillance systems he couldn't have seen it, since the code-thoughts drifted to randomness, but the images… Prowl knew that the camera was a conduit to Soundwave and visualized that connection as going both ways. He wasn't hacking it — Soundwave would have noticed that immediately — but that didn't change the images in his mind. Camera -> Soundwave therefore Soundwave -> Camera (in an extremely simplistic sense).

Seeing that connection visualised that way reminded Soundwave of the not-conversation they'd had in the monitor room while Fowler obliviously looked on. It was both odd and, in a way, very logical. Prowl wouldn't be the first to associate Soundwave with his surveillance systems, just the first to be quite so literal about it… or take the concept so far as to have hardly any separation between them at all.

Finally, as the time actually ticked over to ‘time for energon’ in Prowl's mind (that internalization of the schedule), he dismissed the camera from his contemplations and dropped down to the ground, coming fully into the camera's view a moment later as he prowled over to the door and sat. Waiting.

"I hope you're not planning on get yourself mauled again," Knockout said as he arrived back in the medbay, his droll remark echoing psychically as the physical sound reached Soundwave's audials.

"No." He hadn't planned on being mauled last time, and he didn't intend a repeat now. "Knockout: assist with door."

Knockout gave him an amused look when he set the cube down on the floor in front of the door, but didn't say anything out loud as he moved into position.

As expected, Prowl lunged when they opened the door, but they held it against him. Better prepared this time, Soundwave used a long metal rod rather than his hand to push the cube on the floor through the crack in the door, keeping his arm well out of reach of the mech's vicious claws.

Prowl still scrabbled at the opening rather than going for it right away, trying to drag a victim into the cell, but not for very long. With a snarl he gave up, snatched the cube, and fled. Soundwave watched him disappear under the slab on the cell's camera, noting how the tac-comp registered the increased amount of fuel, but made no suggestions to modify behavior because of it.

"I assume there's no point in hoping for gratitude?"

Soundwave shook his helm in response to the doctor's question. "Prowl: aware rations increased." But, not entirely unreasonably, he was treating it as a singular event, not a sign that future rations would be similarly increased. "Unaware change signifies pattern."

"Well it  _ isn't _ a pattern yet," Knockout pointed out logically. "Anyway, if it's going to make any difference at all in his level of violence it's more likely to be because his systems will be less starved and making fewer demands for fuel and _ not," _ he added with an edge of sarcasm, "because he's feeling appreciative."

Since the… well,  _ feral, _ as Cliffjumper had said, drive for fuel took precedence over any sort of higher thought (outside the corrupt code, whatever it signified) in Prowl's processor when it came to energon, Soundwave was inclined to agree. In this case however, "Result: matters more than reason." If Prowl was less likely to attack whoever approached him, it would be easier for Soundwave to justify keeping him on board.

And continuing to help him.


	8. Chapter 7

As soon as Starscream managed to clear enough of his schedule (with Skywarp ending up in the brig — not Prowl's cell — shortly before the appointed time. Coincidence? Probably not), he sent a message. With any other mech, it was the sort of message that would have been flagged ‘low priority’ then sent to the recipient's console in their quarters; with Soundwave, the notice went through to him immediately, though if he had been doing anything important it was the sort of thing he'd ignore until he was done.

That was actually fairly standard for Starscream. With basically anyone but Megatron, his use of the communications protocols looked something like: low priority (deal with this once you're not busy), high priority (I need an answer now you glitch), and ANSWER ME NOW (FRAGGER!).

The message came in right as Soundwave was wrapping up a small project involving repairs to some of the ship’s exterior surveillance equipment. Earth's atmosphere and weather occasionally managed to cause damage to their systems, though it was usually minor. Such was the case this time, and once he'd finished checking the receiver to ensure it was functioning properly, Soundwave turned his attention to the memo.

Being the sort of thing any mech but Soundwave wouldn't even get until he returned to his quarters for the night, the suggested time was for the following day, a few hours between two meetings with Fowler and his superior, respectively; Soundwave had the clearance to know that Starscream was angling for use of the humans' military satellite network in an attempt to locate the Autobots' new base — preferably without giving them any significant technology in return. Starscream had left the choice of either meeting in his office near the bridge or in his lab near medbay up to Soundwave.

After some consideration, Soundwave decided that the lab was probably the better location for two reasons. One, because it would put Starscream's equipment close at hand if he wound up wanting any of it during their discussion, and two, its proximity to the medbay meant Soundwave could wait there for Starscream's first meeting to conclude.

With Prowl.

He sent back a confirmation to Starscream, letting him know he would be at the lab at the appointed time.

The next day found Soundwave loitering in the medbay waiting for Starscream's meeting to be over. He'd sent Knockout a memo stating his intentions to stop by briefly, though in fact he showed up with some time to spare (just in case Starscream finished early, of course).

Knockout just rolled his optics at him when he walked in, then went back to cleaning the berths and other equipment. A quick glance through the doctor's schedule showed that he'd had a few check ups earlier that day.

Soundwave nodded to him, then went over to the door to Prowl's makeshift cell. Extending his senses, he checked to see where the mech was this time. Under the slab? Above the camera again?

Prowl seemed to be under the slab. The camera couldn't see him, but his telepathy allowed Soundwave to pinpoint him. He also seemed to be recharging, the tac-comp ticking through survival-oriented sensor sweeps and making no-action, no-action, no-action decisions based on what those scans picked up. There was also a countdown, but it was corrupt; one moment counting down the breems in a decaorn, the next hours in a 49 hour day, the next reciting the Russian alphabet (backwards), then counting down klik in a vorn.

Soundwave debated what to do next. With Prowl in recharge, it was hard to judge whether entering the cell was safe (relatively speaking), and getting injured now would be bad. Particularly if the repair took long enough to make Starscream wait on him. Still…

Deciding to try just one thing and then either back off or proceed from there, Soundwave motioned Knockout over so he could crack open the door.

With a snort Knockout did so. His thoughts very clearly said that Soundwave was a hopeless case, but at the same time he was a bit leery that Prowl might attack again. He worried that too many of those attacks would hu—

Soundwave stopped listening. He didn't want to hear Knockout's judgments right now. He would rather listen to Prowl.

As soon as Knockout was in position, Soundwave unlocked the door and slowly pulled it forward; not fully open, but just a little. He didn't try to make noise with it, but he didn't attempt to open the door soundlessly either. He heard the tac-comp acknowledge his presence — and how much energon he potentially had — immediately, but it decided to do nothing, only sending a query to Prowl's CPU for ‘Time/existence?’. Prowl’s CPU booted up in response and his optics switched on, locking with Soundwave's through the shutters.’Negative-Negative/Positive’ was his conscious response to the tac-comp's query, and the tac-comp subsided into a secondary, lower-volume thought-thread. 

Prowl stayed where he was, just watching Soundwave. Not blankly, but his thoughts were plain observations rather than anything either animalistic or corrupted by that strange code. Soundwave took it as a positive sign that Prowl wasn't blocking him or immediately behaving aggressively. 

He risked opening the door a little more, working it carefully toward open enough to slip through. Prowl wondered if he had something. He wondered what Soundwave wanted. He still didn't move though; just watched.

What Soundwave wanted… he wasn't completely sure himself. He wanted to understand, to help… He set aside that train of thought before it could go further. Just check how the repairs were settling, focus on that, he told himself. That unhealthy burr in Prowl's engine still echoed in his processor.

Finally the opening was wide enough, and Soundwave stepped around to fill the gap and prevent Prowl bolting past unhindered.

Prowl snorted through his vents. "Delve too far into the secrets of time, you cease to believe in the unknowable. But there it is, nevertheless, calmly licking its chops," he said. "First the music of planets sounds the same as a falling apple and then you build a Sierpinski fractal out of bears."

The words didn't make any more sense than anything he’d said before, but it didn't sound aggressive. Soundwave entered the room, pulling the door behind him (not latched, just mostly shut).

"Butterflies know only songs and poetry and whatever else they hear…" Prowl shook his head. "Did you want something?"

"Prowl: feeling better?" Soundwave inquired, though he knew he couldn't be feeling completely all right with the amount of damage he still had.

"That's not an answer; that's a question."

He was right, and Soundwave inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the point. "Soundwave: wants to know. Repairs — integrating more comfortably?"

"Knowledge is the vice of all who would lead or follow…" Prowl growled his engine, though the frustrated noise seemed self-directed. "That answer does not even need the translation of the four notes in the symphony of nature, and so can be given free of price: yes, you've been most kind."

There were themes that repeated in Prowl's speech, riddled as it was. Soundwave recognized the butterflies and the concept of an exchange from times before, though hearing them again didn't help him understand any better now than he did then. It was a puzzle far more complex than the cryptex, wherever that was in the room. Probably hidden beneath the slab; Soundwave knew better than to go looking for it.

"Time though, is much less kind. We who exist in less than four dimensions are ruled by it even as probability itself rules more than just the quantum stage." Prowl chuckled. "Don't be concerned with me right now; time may not be a line, but you don't want to waste it."

"Soundwave: will be concerned," he asserted. "Not a waste." He believed that. He needed to believe that. Cliffjumper and Knockout were wrong. He took another step forward, letting one hand — the one Prowl hadn't bitten already — drift forward . "Acceptable: check status of repairs?" 

Prowl chuckled again. "So different… and yet exactly the same as the others. Knowledge is the vice…" Again, that frustrated noise. "If that is what you want, I will provide… for a fee, though this answer does not need one. It's good to get in the habit though, isn't it Soundwave?"

"Habit?" Soundwave repeated, confused. Then, "What fee?"

Prowl only gave a toothy smile. "You will see… in time," he laughed, like it was the punchline of an elaborate joke. When it died down to chuckles he continued. "Anything… any sort of sacrifice. Such things are never without sacrifice."

The first potential ‘sacrifice’ that came mind was energon — Ultra Magnus seemed to have been offering it in trade to Prowl, and it was the one thing Soundwave knew had value to the mech. He wasn't particularly eager to be the literal source of the fuel, but he didn't have any with him besides what was in his lines… He did, however, have a thermal tarp in his subspace. A full size one he would have hesitated to give to a prisoner under normal circumstances, since it could be used to blind or bind a jailor, but the one he carried was small, meant for tinier mechs… or symbiotes. Prowl would probably just shred it for his nest, if he took any interest in it at all, but Soundwave decided to try. Wordlessly, he reached into his subspace and withdrew the folded mesh, holding it out in offering.

Prowl crawled out from under the slab and examined the tarp, cocking his head from one side to the other and angling his doorwings to get a detailed scan. He even licked it once. "It would be better if it were one of your older ones," he finally said, "but for an answer which by right should cost nothing, it will do." He took it, gathering it to his chest as he prostrated himself, spreading his doorwings wide for balance and examination.

Soundwave carefully reached for Prowl, letting his digits trail gently along his plating at first in a motion meant to be soothing. He stroked over worn and damaged armor, checking for spots that felt overly warm and watching for flinches. Even more than feeling though, Soundwave listened, directing his audial feed to pick up mechanical grinding or scraping.

Prowl didn't purr or arch into the touch, though Soundwave could feel the pleasure it caused in him. But he had asked to look at Prowl's injuries, and paid for that answer; Prowl was bound to provide. He didn't move from his position of absolute submission, but allowed Soundwave to manipulate his limbs, looking at the damage.

His plating was still much too thin, delicate and fragile under Soundwave's questing fingers, and his engine still had that slightly unhealthy sound to it (which there wasn't time to fix right now). He never flinched, but Soundwave did take note of the few times when his tac-comp generated damage reports from any stimulus — pain, for any other mech. 

All in all it seemed the repairs Knockout had done earlier were settling well. Having expected to find worse, Soundwave was relieved by the relative success of the first round of repairs. Strained or overworked self-repair sometimes caused things to heal poorly, trying to do too much at once, and that could be difficult to counter. But Prowl's self-repair, while highly active, didn't seem to be glitching. Soundwave was no medic, but it might be time to suggest Knockout move on to the next stage of repairs soon. Hydraulics, if he was remembering correctly.

With a final stroke along his doorwings, Soundwave stood again and stepped back to the door. Starscream's meeting was only due to last another breem. "Repairs: in good condition. Better than Soundwave hoped," he said, both for Prowl and Knockout's benefit.

The instant Soundwave was satisfied, Prowl snatched his new blanket and darted back under the slab. Sure enough, a nanoklik later Soundwave heard the sharp, long  _ rrrriipp! _ of him starting to shred it.

Soundwave left him to it, exiting the cell and locking the door once more. "Assessment: next stage of repairs, could begin soon," he told Knockout. "First stage, settling well." He pinged over a copy of his findings, largely raw data both to save the time of composing a report and so Knockout could draw his own conclusions.

Knockout pinged his thanks for the data. "It seems you hit on the right idea, trading nesting material for good behavior. Has he been that lucid before?"

"Yes," Soundwave said, remembering the time with Fowler. For a given definition of lucid, that is. "That state: still not rational," he cautioned Knockout, even as he reminded himself of that fact.

Knockout snorted inelegantly. "Lucid but not rational. It's never a good combination." In his processor he was making notes, not just about the data, but also about Prowl's mental state. It just didn't fit any psychological problems he was familiar with. He wished he knew more about the psychology of tactical computer equipped mechs. Of course, he also needed to consider what he saw from Soundwa—

Soundwave started heading for the door. "Starscream's meeting: concludes soon," he said, somewhat unnecessarily as he brushed off the half-heard thought. "Soundwave: will return later."

"Far be it for me to claim any of your time with Starscream," Knockout snarked. "And of course you're free to return any time."

Just then Starscream pinged — High Priority (I need an answer now you glitch) — that his meeting was done. There was an apology for it running a bit over time too, informing that he was on his way to his lab now.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Soundwave bid a quick farewell to Knockout and sent Starscream a confirmation that he was en route as well.

Soundwave arrived outside the doors to Starscream's lab and stopped short of the threshold, waiting for the seeker to arrive. He knew it wouldn't take him long, even walking rather than flying. Starscream was more than maneuverable enough to fly inside the ship — so was Soundwave, for that matter — but unless it was an emergency, they didn't. It would only encourage those who weren't as coordinated as they thought they were.

Starscream was the most charismatic of Megatron's top officers. It was a different charisma than the Warlord's, which was the sort of presence that few mechs had the courage or will to disagree with. Megatron reshaped decisions and inspired followers just by existing. Starscream, on the other hand, convinced, cajoled, negotiated and occasionally threatened to get his way. His was a much more active charisma.

He was also  _ loud _ .

Soundwave heard him telepathically long before he came into sight. Since he, like the other seekers, had permanently deleted his telepathic countermeasures in the wake of Jetfire's betrayal, Starscream practically shouted his thoughts, a telepathic wall of 'sound' that was audible from farther away than any other mech, Decepticon or Autobot. It wasn't malicious, or even intentional. He just wanted to stand out, to be heard…

…to not be forgotten as he died in some tiny little crevasse on Cybertron, no wings, no voice, no comms…

…because he was so frustrated with fragging human POLITICS!!! Didn't they realize what the Autobots could  _ do _ to this planet?!

Actively blocking Starscream's 'voice' took more effort than simply not directing attention to a given mech the way Soundwave ignored Knockout, but it was possible. It wasn't often worth the effort, however. Listening while he waited for the commander to arrive, Soundwave felt a pang of sympathy for the seeker's frustration. The humans really didn't appreciate the threat the Autobots represented, and no amount of 'reasoning' with them made it sink in. Soundwave didn't envy Starscream his job interacting with them… He shook off the thought of his conversation, if it could be called that, with Fowler.

"Soundwave!" Starscream exclaimed as he turned the corner, waggling his wings high in a pleased greeting that didn't match his frustrated thoughts, but wasn't at all false. Following the seeker's moods could be tiring at best of times (and cause whiplash at the worst). Between one step and the next his frustration was gone and he was looking forward to working with someone who paid attention, someone trustworthy and competent.

"Starscream," Soundwave acknowledged. It felt good to have those words applied to him and not have them be accompanied by any fears, like Cliffjumper's, or doubts and concerns, like Knockout's.

Starscream almost strutted up past Soundwave, flicking his wings in a manner many mistook for seductive but which Soundwave knew was just designed to catch a mech's attention and keep it. Which was a sort of seduction, perhaps, but not the kind most assumed Starscream intended. He opened the door to his lab, the lights coming on automatically as he turned back around with a wicked smirk. "Come on in to my lab," he beckoned with long, tapered claws that could and had torn through the armor of some of the Autobots' deadliest fighters. His tone — and body language — were almost threatening, but his thoughts were actually playful. He was play-acting, and only dared to because Soundwave was his only audience.

It was refreshing and engaging to be treated so normally. Soundwave didn't mind playing along in the slightest, though his responses were nowhere near as exaggerated as Starscream's. He walked at a sedate pace, calmly following the seeker inside. 

Still acting the part of the slightly deranged scientist, Starscream cackled loudly enough to be heard by anyone in the hallway (no one, right now) as the lab door closed. He hunched his shoulders, letting his wings cast threatening shadows over him as he sat near the computer terminal. "So…" he hissed, his loud thoughts practically giggling at how ridiculous he sounded to his own audials, "tactical computer equipped mechs. Exhibit A." He brought up several files; nothing more than the service records of the few tac-comp equipped Decepticons he had worked with personally. "Stable, sane… tactical computers don't deal well with abstracts, grounding a mech in reality and — assuming they integrate properly in the first place — preventing most of the common disconnects from reality found in the truly insane. Which is not a pattern exhibited by — ahem — exhibit B." He brought up the live feed from the medbay, which showed Prowl still busily shredding the blanket Soundwave had just given him.

"Stable, sane: not appropriate labels for… the prisoner," Soundwave agreed. The slight hesitation in his sentence played into the drama, and Soundwave hoped Starscream interpreted it that way. In truth, he'd been about to use Prowl's name and changed his mind. "Cause of condition: unknown. Speculations, could be made. Considerations,  _ need  _ to be made."

Starscream dropped the act long enough for his compassion to peek through. "Of course, we'll do our best for him." Then he pulled the role back around him like an old, familiar alt form, "Which is why we're here, yes?"

"Indeed." Soundwave nodded, deliberately and slowly to play up the ‘seriousness’ of the situation. "Decepticon brig: inadequate for holding such a prisoner. Improvements, innovations — required." It was hard not to get a little caught up in the drama. Starscream's energy, when it wasn't  _ nervous _ energy, was contagious. So was his nervous energy, actually, but that was far less conducive or enjoyable to share. "What can be done?"

"Well," Starscream said imperiously, "I assume that you don't intend for us to do something so cliche and plebeian as  _ pad the walls." _ He replaced both images with a larger schematic of the brig. A 3D blueprint, not a live feed, with a childish little drawing of Skywarp (recognizable more by his distinctive color than any other feature) in one of the cells. Little cartoonish glyphs floated around him as he soundlessly begged to be let out. Obviously it was from Starscream's personal files, not the ship's official schematic on the main computer. "Technically communications is the most serious issue, but those are the most easily dealt with. We'll simply install a full-spectrum jammer here," he pointed and it appeared on the blueprint, attached to the brig's main power supply right outside the cell.

"Communication issue, high priority." Soundwave pointed to the current position of the terminal for operating the force field in the cell block. "Force field controls: should be on isolated circuit with backup," he suggested. "Jammer's position: optimal on main system?" There was no denying its presence was necessary, but it was just as important that it not interfere with things it shouldn't, and that it not fail when they need it.

"Hmmm… that is a good point." Starscream's wings folded down almost flush with his back as he considered. His cheerfulness as he continued was part of the act. "Of course, if we loose the main power we'll have a few slightly larger issues than a single escaped prisoner. Cloak-down-and-falling-out-of-the-sky problems. Still, no point in adding another complication to an already complicated and purely theoretical situation."

On the schematic, the cell's power rerouted to a back up generator that appeared as a large block jutting out of the wall of the brig outside the cell. A terminal and jammer were added to that block, then heat-shielded to keep the generator from interfering with their function. "There. That should keep the little twerp contained for at least a couple of joors in case of power failure. And if power stays down longer than that, there won't be a brig left to escape from and it's unlikely we'll all be around to care."

"Redundancies, still wise. No reason to make a bad situation worse." Soundwave considered the cell in light of Starscream's comment about the power and an earlier observation in his notes that physical restraints were the only truly sure ones they had, given Prowl's abilities to dismantle code. "Suggestion: physical bars as failsafe."

With another gleeful cackle, Starscream added bars to the cell: thick, gothic, wrought iron bars with a decorative human household crest, a giant lock across the gate, and marble pillars on either side supporting it. Little flashes of lightning flickered on the schematic, adding dramatic shadows to the modification.

Soundwave didn't exactly laugh, though a faint tremor rippled across his plating in soundless mirth. "Decor: excessive," he deadpanned.

"But it's the little details that give a dungeon its proper ambiance! How can you have a proper dungeon without the flourishes?" Starscream complained with an exaggerated pout. Despite his protests, however, the marble and wrought iron gates morphed into a much more functional set of titanium bars with a simple gate and lock at the entrance to the cell. A gargoyle-headed hook appeared on the wall next to the force field control terminal with a large ring of keys hanging on it. The lightning stayed.

"Bats." Tiny animated bats accompanied Soundwave’s suggestion, flickering across his face mask and backlit by lightning.

Starscream cackled again and little bats poured onto the blueprint, fluttering around energetically. Soundwave didn't know where Starscream was getting the coding for his little flourishes, but he was not writing it on the fly: the bats showed signs of being controlled by a very limited AI, settling on the blueprint's ceiling, then spooking into the air at the next flash of lightning.

"Impressive." A rather fortuitous clip of Knockout had just the right inflection to convey both joking and serious admiration.

Starscream grinned, breaking character to preen. His wings flicked up and down at the compliment; Soundwave was the best computer programmer in the Decepticons and being praised for his skills meant a lot coming from him.

"Now," he said, back in character and rubbing his hands together gleefully. He really did like this game. "For the implements of unspeakable torture!" A collection of oversized cat toys — including catnip — were added to the cell. "No? Too much? Alright," the toys disappeared, "what next then?"

"No padded walls," Soundwave answered, though the walls were his next concern. "Prisoner: would shred them scratching with claws." Whatever they did to them needed to be strong enough to withstand that, and preferably not damage Prowl. The only problem was… "Walls: need to withstand more than claws. Possibly." He pulled up a schematic of a standard acid pellet rifle on his mask. "Favored weapon of other Prowl, according to Cliffjumper."

At a quick keyboard command from Starscream the terminal pinged for a request of that schematic. Another ping — High Priority (I need an answer now you glitch) — went to Knockout, requesting suggestions on what sort of material might be suitable for lining the walls for the prisoner to scratch at without damaging himself. Starscream considered his own claws for a moment while he waited for the answers. The walls of the brig, he thought, should be able to withstand scratching as it was, but he had never actually thought about making a determined effort to scratch through them before. The greater issue was the acid rifle — aaaand other weapons, his processor supplied as he pulled up the list Soundwave uploaded, complete with the schematics for the acid rifle and all the other weapons Cliffjumper had mentioned.

"A combat drone!?!  _ REALLY? _ "

"Apparently." That one had caught Soundwave off-guard too. "Uncertain if prisoner has possession of similar devices. However: transformations, subspace access, will be restored along with communications. Considerations must be made," he repeated.

"Yes, yes." Starscream had mostly dropped character now, thinking his way through the information. The gear shredder wouldn't be an issue in an enclosed environment like the cell — the energy disk was designed to bounce off of walls. It would pose more danger to the prisoner than anyone else, and as much as he didn't relish the thought of the mech hurting himself, he also privately acknowledged that there was very little he could do about it. Taking away the ammunition was the best way to neutralize that weapon, if the prisoner's transformations couldn't be disabled. Keeping the magazine empty would be Soundwave's and Knockout's task, as the mech's systems manufactured more.

Knockout pinged back a list of materials suitable for scratching a moment later: hard enough to hopefully keep the prisoner's claws sharp enough minimize his desire to scratch, yet soft enough not to damage him or create any large pieces of easily weaponized shrapnel. Various kinds of Earth-grown wood featured most prominently.

"Here," Starscream muttered, still thinking about the acid rifle and the combat drone. "Megatron said you wanted some way to interact with the prisoner without risking him getting out. Why don't you work on that for a bit." A data port on the terminal spiraled open at his command, an open invitation for Soundwave to connect to the schematic and modify it himself.

Soundwave extended a data cable to smoothly jack in and proceeded to try multiple configurations within the constraints of the brig set up, construction time, and other necessary security measures. Modifying a single cell quickly proved to be more cumbersome than combining two, and the layout that eventually settled on the screen was one with the wall for two adjacent cells replaced by physical-and-force-field barriers.

Starscream glanced over from his lists of acid-resistant materials, examining Soundwave’s set up. A spark of playfulness shone through his distraction and he decorated the second brig cell like a human-child's playroom, complete with toddler toys. The miniature Skywarp immediately started complaining in silent little floating glyphs about how bored he was and how he deserved some toys in his cell too.

Tweaking the code, Soundwave duplicated one of the toys to give Skywarp a small red car to play with.

Starscream snorted out an inelegant laugh. "Now you've done it." Again demonstrating that his characters were a simple and primitive AI, rather than a program with a limited set of responses, ‘Skywarp’ immediately responded to the toy car, _ vroom!vroom!ing _ (silently, of course) around his cell with it.

Despite his fond irritation at miniature-Skywarp's antics (a reflection of his true fondness for his often irritating trinemate in reality), Starscream left the car in the purple seeker's cell and drew Soundwave's attention back to the list of acid resistant materials. "I find myself vexed. You have more experience with the prisoner's abilities, perhaps you can help me narrow down the list. On Cybertron… well, there is a vast difference between the acid rains and the weaponized chemical used in acid pellet rifles." Most buildings on Cybertron were made from metal despite the rains, except where they were made from crystal, like Praxus. A practice done more for cultural than practical reasons, despite certain advantages.

"Acid rain: not a concern on Earth," Soundwave said. It had been strange at first, not needing to take precautions against the precipitation of this planet, but also convenient. In this case, however, there was an even better reason not to worry about it. "Not a concern  _ indoors." _

"Yes of course," Starscream waved that off. "And when something did need above-average acid resistance back on Cybertron, we used glass." He jabbed his clawed finger at the computer display. "The humans have developed some fantastic plastics, which have the added advantage of being cheap to acquire here on Earth. Even if negotiating for those amounts would be a  _ pain in the aft. _ " Following his mercurial mood swings, Starscream's thoughts were once again focused on the frustration of negotiating with General Bryce and Agent Fowler for anything the humans didn't deem ‘necessary’ for their alien visitors.

"Glass, plastics: easily broken," Soundwave pointed out, checking the list Starscream had compiled. They needed to acid proof the cell while simultaneously shielding it against Prowl's claws. A thin or malleable surface coating wouldn't stand up against his scratching for very long. "Alternative: more durable substance?" He hoped if there was that it wouldn't be rare or difficult to get hold of. Starscream's frustrations over dealing with the humans were not unfounded.

That broke Starscream out of his spiralling thoughts before they could become overwhelming. With another playful mad-scientist cackle, he encrusted all the interior surfaces of the modelled cell with diamonds. "It's PERFECT!" he declared grandiosely, and another peal of holographic thunder crashed, sending the little holographic bats scrambling for new shelters.

Soundwave stared mutely at the glittering cell, the absurdity of it knocking even borrowed words from his vocalizer momentarily. The principle behind it, however, it wasn't completely ridiculous. Diamonds  _ would  _ shield the walls, given their chemical composition, but perhaps faceted gemstones were not the best way such a covering could be applied.

"Amusing," he said finally. Then, "Expensive."

"Pfft!" Starscream brushed that off, still in his persona. "Picky, picky. You wanted something that can stand up to both acid and claws, and there it is!" Then he sobered slightly. "In all seriousness, those claws really are an issue. This is why we don't let prisoners have weapons!" But he knew it wasn't a choice or failing of Soundwave's as a jailor, in this case. "The reality is, there aren't a lot of acid-resistant, much less acid-proof, materials that can stand up to a Cybertronian's claws. Diamonds are the only one I can think of, really. We could play around with exotics like zirconium," the cell walls changed to match, "but that'd be almost as expensive as diamonds, and just as easy to claw through as plastic."

"Regrettable — but true," Soundwave agreed. There wasn't an ideal solution since it wasn't an ideal situation, which meant they just had to do the best they could to find a middle ground that was at least workable, even if it wasn't optimal. "Query: possibility of alternating protective layers?"

"Certainly it's  _ possible _ ." Starscream said, altering the blueprint accordingly. Now the walls were covered in a layer of acid-resistant plastic, with that layer covered in the same tough metal the rest of the ship was made from. "But I don't see how it's of any true use." A little grey Praxan (who was not Prowl, the body language being that of a sane Cybertronian) materialized in the cell and started shooting through the claw-resistant layer of metal, then clawing through the plastic — both with ease — before escaping off the edge of the blueprint.

Soundwave contemplated the cell, then added an extra set of layers and thickened them. "Suggestions: increase time required for escape," he said by way of explanation. It would be inconvenient to repair the walls, but as long as Prowl could not get through them before they could get to him and stop him, they could deal with it. At any rate, it wouldn’t be an ongoing problem. If this Prowl even had an acid rifle, acid rounds didn't regenerate; once he used up whatever he had, that would be the end of it. "Perhaps," he added a simple sensor network to detect tampering beneath the outermost scratch-resistant layer, "to decrease response time?"

Starscream looked over the changes, tapping his claws against his chin. Soundwave could hear his thoughts: he didn't like using an imperfect solution and was wracking his processor for something better. Unfortunately he wasn't coming up with anything that could be implemented by the time the cell would be needed again, or with the resources the Decepticons had on hand. Finally he sighed explosively, blowing gusts of frustrated hot air out through all his vents, heel-thrusters whining as they blew air under the table. "That is, perhaps the best option we have." With a snarl, he added an oversized scratching post for cats to the room. "Maybe that'll keep him away from the walls some."

Soundwave could tell he didn't really believe that, but then, he hadn't watched Prowl do exactly what that was designed to facilitate. "Maybe." 

Actually, maybe a designated scratching surface would make a difference. If Prowl's scratching at the walls was merely to keep the edges of his claws sharp, the replacement tips would minimize how much of it he did already, and something more suitable for that purpose than the walls might stop him from damaging them all together.

Starscream wiped all the artistic flourishes from the blueprint, copied it, then uploaded it into the  _ Victory's _ computer with his signature. "I've authorized the materials you and the construction teams need to get started. In the meantime I, unfortunately, have another appointment."  _ And I need to add acquiring the appropriate plastics to the list of things I need to discuss with that human, _ he thought with a mental grumble.

"Starscream's efforts: appreciated." Both his input and his work on the blueprint, but also his upcoming efforts with the humans in regard to the plastics. For both officers, constructing the cell represented a fair amount of work. At least it shouldn't be an insurmountable task.

"A pleasure, as always." Starscream got up with his usual flounce. He didn't dismiss Soundwave — he might be second in command, but Soundwave had seniority in the Decepticons and Megatron's confidence — but instead sauntered out himself, hips swaying in a heroic attempt to appear unbothered by the upcoming task. His wings were beginning to twitch uncontrollably, however, and his infectious mood turned sour. Fortunately he didn't dawdle, moving out of telepathic range quickly as he headed back to his office.

For Soundwave’s part, there was no point going to the brig to start any of the work he would need to see to personally until the heavier construction was well underway. He could start working on some of the components or isolating the force-field generator though…

It didn't actually wind up taking very long, in the end. Cliffjumper and various others (there was no shortage of miscreants to punish with construction duty) took care of the heavy lifting, and Starscream delivered on the plastics well before they were needed. They layered the inside of the cell with it, alternating metal and plastic, while Soundwave took care of the electrical work.

Soundwave was taking care of a few finishing touches before the final layer went up when Knockout interrupted him.

Urgently.


	9. Chapter 8

"SOUNDWAVE!" Knockout called over the communication systems with his usual lack of concern for the proper protocols, sounding more frazzled than usual.

The unexpected call was jarring, and one of the smaller components he was working with slipped through Soundwave's fingers. Laserbeak swooped down to retrieve the unbroken piece as Soundwave responded. "Soundwave: listening. Something wrong?"

"Your pet's being difficult."

"Pet?" That took a moment to process, and when it did Soundwave felt a flash of irritation. "Prowl: not pet," he corrected, even as he pulled up the medbay security feed to try to determine what the problem was. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. Prowl was hiding under his berth in his cell as usual and didn't _look_ agitated. But next to one of the counters in the main room of the medbay, Breakdown was helping Knockout repair a deep scratch on the medic’s arm — four scratches, to be precise, spaced a very familiar distance apart. Prowl’s handiwork.

"Whatever you want to call him, I need you down here; at your earliest convenience, of course," Knockout drawled back.

"Soundwave: en route." ‘Earliest convenience’ sounded an awful lot like ‘immediately’ the way Knockout said it. Cutting the call, Soundwave took the part back from Laserbeak and stroked over her wings before sending her to fly a circuit of the ship as he headed to the medbay.

Breakdown was still working on the scratches in Knockout's arm when Soundwave arrived, and his dark gray face shifted from focused concentration to a nervous smile when he heard the door open. The red and tan mech had always been wary of Soundwave, given his history as one of the notorious Autobot Wreckers before he defected near the beginning of the war, but unlike Cliffjumper, he didn't have any bad experiences with him (or another version of him) specifically. He simply knew that he was being watched more closely than others for potential treason… though Soundwave’s actual worries over him had long since been assuaged. He was trusted. Soundwave nodded to him before glancing over to the cell door, unsure what Knockout thought he was going to be able to accomplish if Prowl was in an uncooperative mood.

Knockout shook off his assistant’s grip. "Finally," he said, though Soundwave had made good time through the ship. "I need you to do… whatever it is you do… so I can get some scans." His irritation and frustration almost literally filled the room. His thoughts were nearly as loud as Starscream’s, and they drowned out those of his companion. "No matter what I offer him, he's done nothing but hide and swipe at me since you said his repairs were integrating one Earth week ago."

"No guarantees," Soundwave said wryly, walking over to the cell. In all the time he’d been feeding Prowl, he hadn’t seen any signs of a consistently bad mood. Right now there was no way to hear Prowl’s thoughts over Knockout though, not until he either calmed down or Soundwave put some distance between them. Asking Knockout to be quiet mentally wasn’t very likely to work; the medic just didn't have that sort of control over his thoughts — and asking him to stand on the other side of the room would probably just make him mad enough to start 'yelling' even louder.

Unfortunately, even once he was right up against the door, Knockout's thoughts overpowered Prowl's. The edge of a doorwing sticking out from under the berth confirmed he hadn’t moved, but Soundwave still couldn’t get a clear read on him. That made going into the cell somewhat risky, particularly given Prowl had just attacked Knockout. But getting closer to Prowl and further away from the irritated medic was the only way he was going to get anything.

Soundwave carefully unlocked and cracked the door, prepared to close it swiftly if necessary. "Prowl?" he called quietly, watching and listening for a response.

The doorwing pulled back under the berth as Prowl shifted to look out at him, optics glowing dully. "One, two, three O'Leary…" he called back softly.

Well. That sounded like the Prowl Soundwave was coming to know and not understand. Silently Breakdown moved to the door, in what had become standard procedure when the medical cell was open: having a second mech hold it in case Prowl decided to rush it. Soundwave nodded to him and slid carefully into the room.

Prowl giggled. "What is your question? I could guess, but you need to be the one to say it."

"Knockout: needs to perform medical scans," Soundwave told him. Not a question, but truth. "Repairs, should continue."

Prowl gave an irritated growl. "Practice! Don't make the mistake of believing this meaningless. It is the pattern, the rhythm of the world… Binding us as tightly as any chains. A question and a sacrifice, Soundwave. It's actually a fairly simple equation, as such things go."

Soundwave didn’t follow his ‘reasoning’, if it could be called that, but if that was what he needed to cooperate… "Why did you attack Knockout?" If playing along was what it took, then Soundwave would do it.

Still under the berth, Prowl gave him a look of pure exasperation. "A question _and_ a sacrifice."

That was the part Soundwave really didn't understand. What exactly constituted a sacrifice? He was limited in what he could offer by way of material things; anything left in Prowl's possession had to be something that couldn’t be weaponized, and Soundwave knew that the tac-comp could probably find a way to weaponize almost anything.

Almost as though _he_ was the telepath, Prowl chuckled softly.

Soundwave could barely hear Prowl’s thoughts, which — adding to the illusion that Prowl might be the one psychically eavesdropping — were eerily similar to his own. He was aware that there was precious little Soundwave could give him that he could accept as a sacrifice… but he was not willing to give any hints, and no suggestions surfaced in his thoughts.

He was somewhat consternated that every conversation with Prowl wound up being such a literal exchange when he felt he didn't have a lot to offer, and wasn't sure how Prowl would take it if he couldn’t come up with anything. But he really was wondering about the answer to that question — why _was_ Prowl being so difficult to Knockout… and not to him?

It couldn’t be due to any kind of personal preference. From what he'd seen of Prowl's thoughts and behavior, they were all walking sources of energon above anything else. Pretty equalizing, as such things went.

He wished he understood! Soundwave didn't like not knowing things!

"Get used to disappointment," Prowl said, his voice sounding off, as though he were impersonating someone.

Soundwave was the only one who hadn't written the whole ‘sacrifice’ business off as just a facet of Prowl's insanity… or rather, the only one who believed there was an internal logic at work, even if it was one he couldn’t see. It was real and important to Prowl, therefore it was important when dealing with him. Whatever it stemmed from, it couldn’t just be ignored. It was part of Prowl's reality; anyone who dealt with him had to deal with it too.

For a long moment Soundwave stood there, drawing a blank. Then, wondering if he could offer to _do_ something rather than _give_ something, said, "Soundwave: will check engine. Make repairs." He had the necessary tools in his subspace at all times, just in case they were needed for Laserbeak… or any of his other fellow Decepticons, for that matter.

"Hand," Prowl commanded imperiously, his thoughts clearly stating that he expected Soundwave to offer his hand to him.

That would put him perilously close if he tried to attack, but Soundwave only hesitated for a moment. With Prowl the risk of injury was a given; not taking that risk wouldn't get him anywhere and he knew it. He raised his hand slowly, palm down, fingers relaxed.

Prowl crept out of his hiding spot, nuzzling those fingers with his chevron, then licked one of their long, tapered claws. Then he did it again, running his tongue all the way to the palm and up to Soundwave’s wrist-joint, where he spent several nanokliks lavishing the struts, tubes and wires exposed there with attention. The tactical computer noted exactly how much pressure he would have to bite down with right now to disable Soundwave’s hand and make him bleed, but he didn't do anything… Yet.

It was beyond disconcerting and unsettling, watching Prowl and feeling his touch on the delicate mechanisms of his hand. Soundwave held himself still, willing himself not to let it visibly rattle him despite the building urge to pull away. A sudden move like that might provoke the very attack he was afraid of, so he forced himself to stay put and not give in to that fear.

Prowl chuckled, and Soundwave heard his conscious thoughts echo his once more — almost exactly: _It’s beyond disconcerting and unsettling for Soundwave, watching me and feeling my touch on the delicate mechanisms of his hand, but he holds himself still, wills himself not to let it visibly rattle him despite the building urge to pull away… will he? Yes? No? Maybe?_ _Soundwave reasons that a sudden move like that might provoke the very attack he's afraid of…_

THAT did startle Soundwave enough to make him physically flinch, even as he reached out mentally to double check his own processor that there hadn't been a psychic intrusion. He hadn't felt anything pressing at his mind… How could Prowl's thoughts mirror his own so closely?!

Prowl did bite down then, just hard enough that Soundwave couldn’t pull away without inflicting damage on himself. Around the primary energon line in his wrist, Prowl chuckled. Feedback loop, he thought. A mirage of mathematics… _Fear has a taste. It flows in the wires. Hot metal tastes different than cold._

Soundwave found it ironic that Prowl should be thinking that, given that fear didn't make him feel warm at all — he felt cold with it, even if his frame _did_ warm, fuel burn increasing as he tensed, preparing to act.

Steeling himself, Soundwave steadied his frame and told Prowl firmly, "Soundwave: requires use of hand for maintenance. _Both_ hands."

For a moment Prowl weighed in his mind the value of the fuel in Soundwave’s lines against the repairs. In his conscious thoughts — not the tactical computer — the thought _What would happen if…_ spiralled out into corrupt code. Then he spat out Soundwave’s hand. "At this time I am inclined to acquiesce to your request." he said, haughtily as a spoiled Towers brat.

"Thank you," Soundwave said anyway. Even though his wrist was fine and Prowl hadn’t done any real damage, he still rubbed at it briefly with his other hand before reaching into his subspace for his tools. He wanted to see what he could do, since Prowl was being even less reasonable with Knockout. Which reminded him— "Prowl: did not answer the question. Not allow Knockout to do repairs, why?"

"Sacrifice first," he said, again haughtily. Then he sat on his haunches like a turbohound, spreading his doorwings attentively. The impression of a trained hound was so uncanny that Soundwave almost saw it instead of the mech at his feet.

Hoping that meant Prowl would answer once he completed his work, Soundwave set his things on the slab and picked up the first tool, stepping up beside Prowl and reaching for an access panel. Prowl just watched, tactical computer continuing to run computations that stated clearly that as far as it was concerned Soundwave was prey, but the mech himself didn't help, or hinder.

Careful to be as gentle as possible regardless of the way Prowl ignored pain, Soundwave opened the panel covering part of the Praxan's cooling system. One of the first and easiest places to check for ill-fitting or degraded parts causing engine rattling was fans and filters, so he began there.

Almost all Prowl’s fans and filters were filthy, and some of them were misaligned. This was something Knockout had planned to take care of along with the hydraulics. But as Soundwave searched through them, he didn't think this was where the noise was coming from. Listening to the burr as Prowl idled his engine under his hands, it sounded more like it was coming from the engine itself.

Prowl purred at the touch, leaning against the hands on his frame and wiggling to scratch some itchy internal component against Soundwave’s claws with no regard for the fact that it made the job somewhat harder. This was, his thoughts said, the sacrifice. He was allowed to make it difficult.

Soundwave went ahead and scratched at the itch for Prowl, flakes of accumulated dried… _something_ … breaking free and clinging to his fingers. Seeing the buildup, Soundwave wondered if that was what was causing the problem — buildup on the moving parts of his engine. There were several points where gritty, tacky residue could form easily, particularly if a mech wasn't running on clean fuel.

Taking stock of the state of the components he encountered in a log for Knockout, Soundwave worked his way in deeper. The purring made examining the engine tricky, but it also told Soundwave that yes, it was that tacky, sticky, gritty build up that was causing that unhealthy sound that'd been driving him crazy since he first heard it.

He was forced to pull his fingers out quickly with Prowl moved, flopping down comfortably across Soundwave’s legs before relaxing again to let him work. The new position made it a little difficult to reach the other tools on the slab, but not impossible. Thank goodness for long arms! And for a well-stocked cleaning kit.

Soundwave began the slow, meticulous task of scraping, brushing, and wiping the pistons of Prowl's engine clean. In some places, the buildup had solidified and was easier to clear away, but most of it had been kept warm and viscous by the heat of Prowl's engine. It looked like a combination of bad environment and bad fuel for too long had caused the problem, which made sense. Regular maintenance would have prevented it, but this particular job wasn't one most mechs could perform on themselves. In fact, most mechs preferred to be offline for such work, finding it uncomfortable. Soundwave shook his head at Prowl's odd behavior, methodically going along each piston, cleaning and oiling it so it slid smoothly once again.

Prowl purred again, the sound rising and falling in time with his ventilations, each one quieter than the last until he fell into a blissed near-recharge. He kneaded his claws across blue plating. There was no force behind it, but those things were _sharp_ , leaving tiny punctures and scratches in their wake. He didn't seem to be aware he was doing it, and it didn’t quite register as pain, light as it was. It was actually more of a tickling sensation; easy enough to ignore.

He was almost done with the first side, but in order to finish the job he needed to repeat the process on the other side of Prowl's engine. Long his arms might have been, but he couldn't manage that without shifting Prowl. Not without using his datacles, anyway, but he wasn't foolish enough to extend them where they would be… chewable.

Soundwave put off worrying about just how to turn Prowl until he'd completely finished the first side and had all of the cleaning equipment set back on the slab out of the way. Then he looked down at his lap, where Prowl was draped/curled over his legs, kneading the nearest bit of plating he could reach. Other than that, he wasn't moving. In fact, he seemed so close to recharge as to have missed when Soundwave stopped cleaning and closed his access panel.

Bringing his arms up under Prowl carefully to support him, Soundwave tried to move so he was sitting completely on the floor rather than kneeling. With any luck, he'd be able to rotate Prowl in the process…

Prowl jerked awake, flailing out of Soundwave's grip to cling to his legs and whine in protest. _Comfy!_

Soundwave hesitated. He knew he was very much in mauling range — it would be hard for him to be any more in mauling range! — but he needed to move Prowl. He tried again, moving even more slowly than before, stroking over Prowl's plating soothingly as he worked to get a good grip. Not a really firm hold, but enough leverage to slide Prowl around in his lap rather than lifting him. It would leave scrapes in his leg plating, but he ignored the minor inconvenience.

Prowl grumbled and wiggled, trying to curl tighter against Soundwave's body (right next to his primary fuel tank, the tac-comp put forward helpfully), but eventually Soundwave got him positioned with no more violence than an accidental doorwing slapped against his face mask. His engine grumbled discontentedly as he settled again in the new position, seemingly trying — but not actually succeeding — to wrap himself around Soundwave's upper leg (right next to the primary energon line running the length of it). His claws dug into the plating there, securing him in place.

Soundwave was still stroking Prowl's plating almost reflexively with one hand. He paused when his processor caught up with what he was doing. Was he doing it to calm Prowl, or himself? Except for the rather pointed reminders of just how many ways the mech in his lap could significantly injure, possibly even kill, him given the way they were currently arranged, this was a familiar and comforting routine for Soundwave. He'd performed maintenance like this on his symbiotes countless times… Of course, they were smaller, more cooperative, and less inclined to lash out unexpectedly.

Prowl purred again, simultaneously leaning into the touch and relaxing into his new position. Taking up the cleaning supplies again, Soundwave opened the second access panel and worked his way past the clogged fans and filters to the gummed up pistons to get started.

A bit belatedly he spared a glance over at the door, reaching out for Breakdown's thoughts to check on the situation outside. Breakdown had closed the door and was still standing guard just outside, listening for any sounds of trouble from within. The strongest thought in his processor, however, was amusement at the tantrum Knockout was _still_ throwing over the whole thing.

Satisfied things were still status normal in the medbay, Soundwave continued with round two, actually going so far as to set aside and save some samples as he cleared the grime away. It might not lead to anything, but he wondered if Shockwave might be able to learn something about where Prowl had been and what he'd been subsisting on prior to winding up in a box in Ultra Magnus' rooms by analyzing them.

Prowl was not precisely squirming, but his purring was enough to make Soundwave cautious as he worked on the moving parts. It didn't take nearly as long this time for Prowl to start kneading the leg he was practically latched onto, claws dipping into the seams he'd grabbed earlier. The vulnerability prickled along Soundwave's neural net. He told himself there was nothing to be done about it except finish his task before Prowl decided to do more than paw (relatively) gently.

When he had finished, Soundwave closed Prowl's panels and his tool box, placing it back into subspace so as not to risk leaving it behind. If Prowl noticed, he didn't react. Then Soundwave listened carefully to the purring sound Prowl was still making, assessing how much of an improvement there was from the earlier burr. Prowl's engine kept rumbling — a much healthier sound now — and he continued to knead the leg plating beneath his claws.

"Soundwave: finished," Soundwave announced, one hand coming up to pet Prowl's helm for a moment. "Engine, will operate better now."

Prowl whined in protest (also a much healthier sound than it had been before). _Comfy…_

_Strings of starlight twisted into shapes of my design… mine. Safe._

"Prowl: answer Soundwave's question now," he prompted, though he didn't try to dislodge him.

Something clamped down on Prowl's sleepy thoughts. A compulsion of some kind, pushing him to answer. Mentally Soundwave could hear him scrambling for something understandable, then finally, "Candy-blue has nothing to sacrifice."

There it was again, that notion of sacrifice. Watching what had just happened in Prowl's processor, what little he'd been able to follow, had been fascinating to Soundwave. He hoped Prowl meant Knockout with the color reference. "Knockout, trying to help. Prowl: will feel better after repairs."

Prowl just hissed; he still had his claws precariously close to a probably-fatal bleed point in Soundwave's leg. Not a good position to be in for provoking an argument. It didn't help that Soundwave was struggling again with his speech limitations…

"Conditions for accepting repairs?" he finally managed to ask after a long pause. Trying to work out how to say what he wanted was difficult, especially since saying the wrong thing could go very badly and he didn't know what _avoid_ saying.

Prowl hissed again, a (also much healthier) growl building in his engine, frustrated that Soundwave wasn't understanding, that he couldn't make him understand. That frustration caused him to dig his claws into an armor seam, sharp points sliding neatly through the underlying components, though he didn't puncture anything… yet. "Services can be gifted; Answers COST."

Soundwave couldn't help being little afraid; he'd let himself get into a very vulnerable position on the floor with Prowl, effectively immobilized, and the mech's frustration probably wasn't a good sign. It was a shared frustration, at least — Soundwave didn't have enough information to ask the right questions, and even if he could find the words, Prowl's answers didn't make any sense! Soundwave didn't like not understanding anymore than Prowl didn't like him not understanding! The way Prowl said 'cost', it was clearly important to him. But just like the word 'sacrifice', Soundwave couldn't figure out what he meant by it. He didn't seem to be using it as metaphorically as some of his other speech, but it wasn't exactly literal either.

"Knockout, giving medical care," he tried. "Prowl: does not accept. Soundwave, does not understand."

Prowl hissed and ripped into Soundwave's armor, violence brimming in his thoughts. There was no intent, no plan, but he did avoid the killing-blow of tearing into the primary energon line. His wings flared up and out, aggression outlining his every movement. "Do you think this is a personal quirk? A game? Mary, Mary quite contrary?"

Soundwave _had_ been viewing it as a peculiarity to Prowl, but saying so now obviously wouldn't help. Knockout and Breakdown noticed the sudden violence on the camera feed from the cell. Breakdown started to open the door — both intended to come rushing to the rescue.

"Stop!" Soundwave commanded immediately, the recorded voice coming out loud and sharp through his own pain. "Situation, not critical. Door: stays closed." If Breakdown tried to come in and subdue Prowl, Soundwave definitely wouldn't get any closer to the answers they needed. Besides, the odds for fighting in the small space were better for him one-on-one, despite his disadvantaged starting position should Prowl lapse into total violence. Soundwave practically heard Knockout grit his teeth — and definitely heard the edge of an upcoming rant as he began constructing it in his thoughts — but he and his assistant complied with his order to stand down. "If not a game, what?" he directed at Prowl.

Prowl skittered off Soundwave's lap and climbed up on top of the berth, doorwings still flared aggressively. He snarled. "Now, now, Soundwave… that is a _question._ "

As soon as Prowl moved, Soundwave stood, readying to defend himself. Any time he tried to talk to Prowl, he always had so _many_ questions. If the feral mech was going to hold each of them against him, like marks on a scorecard, he wasn't sure what he could say. If it weren't for the fact that they needed to get as many repairs done as possible while he was still in the medbay and the pressure from the humans regarding his continued presence on the ship, Soundwave would have fallen back on just continuing to observe. But there were time restraints in play.

Prowl's thoughts remained wide open — no telepathic countermeasures — but everything having to do with questions and answers and sacrifices was rooted in corrupt code, only occasionally leaking out into something partially understandable as metaphors and images. An altar on a hill, overlooking the lights of a busy city below; an infinity of stars spread out above…

All Soundwave could think of was more questions.

In his baser thoughts, the thoughts tied to his frustrations and the tactical computer, Prowl did intend to attack again. He hadn't yet — not for fear of injury, but because such an attack would only be a manifestation of frustration. Pointless, if it wasn't meant to take a life. The tactical computer still offered up several non-lethal options, however, and it took clear effort for Prowl to hold back as he snarled again. "This isn't a game. This isn't a choice! You've one answer — ONE — before all answers could cost life or limb or worse ." He coiled, ready to spring and strike. "Choose what you will sacrifice, Soundwave, or the answers you seek will choose for you!"

That code — the corrupt, unreadable code that underlined so much of the mechs' thoughts that Soundwave wanted so much to understand… If he could only ask one thing, it would be about that, but — "When/How/What/Why??" The clips overlapped and blended to the point of being all but unintelligible, and Soundwave shook his helm. " _NO._ Disregard." Then, "Query: corrupt code origins?"

Prowl smiled viciously, the barely-lit glass of his optics gleaming in the medbay's lights. Despite the fierce expression though, the impending violence bled out of his frame and his thoughts, and the tactical computer's calculations all cancelled, leaving that part of his mind curiously blank. The image of the altar on the hill grew stronger, with a thought-version of Soundwave climbing the steps toward the top while the stars rained light down on everything… " _One_ answer, in trade for a riddle. Just one. Is this what you wish to ask?"

Soundwave hesitated just a moment, remembering how Prowl had offered him an answer before. He hadn't understood — or trusted — him then, and he wasn't entirely certain he could now for that matter, but… " _Yes._ "

Prowl slunk off the berth, his frame-language submissive. He knelt at Soundwave's feet, all hints of violence gone. The slightly warped armor plate covering his neural port juddered aside, inviting Soundwave to jack in. "Then ask," he said, helm bowed to expose the port.

"You're not doing what I think you're doing," Knockout commed from outside the cell.

Prowl hissed at the door. Soundwave didn't know what he had heard or how he had sensed Knockout's intent, but his thoughts stated clearly that he would maul him (and probably Soundwave as well) if he came inside.

"Do not interfere," Soundwave told the medic. "Knockout's presence, will provoke an attack." He didn't bother offering explanations or trying to justify himself; he was the ranking officer. He didn't have to. "Knockout: will wait."

Stepping up to Prowl, Soundwave finally risked extending one of the data cables he'd kept carefully tucked away to protect them. Before he could second-guess himself, or Knockout could argue with him, Soundwave slid the jack into the offered port.

All of Soundwave's firewalls were fully engaged, but where normally he would have encountered his target's firewalls and exchanged queries for authorization and handshake protocols, there were no such cautious code-level protections with Prowl. Which meant instead of a slow, careful merging of thoughts, Soundwave was sent careening through Prowl's mind as the 'ground' opened up up beneath him. Snatches of vicious code-thoughts tore at his firewalls and pulled at him, dragging him down until he seemed to 'hit' the bottom with a (mentally) audible crash.

Surrounded in darkness, Soundwave heard the muttering howl of mad thoughts all around him. Before him stood a terminal, with a screen that read: "Repeat query."

Somewhat disoriented, Soundwave did. "Query: corrupt code origins?" Using glyphs through a direct connection made layering the meaning he wanted the words to have much easier than when he had only limited voice clips to work with. It let him distinguish the code he meant clearly by how he perceived it telepathically, something he never could have managed out loud.

The terminal blinked “Query accepted” and disappeared. The howling thoughts drew closer and closer until Soundwave could see them as a hurricane of if/then/therefore around him and Prowl and the medbay, branching out into unbearably complex calculations even close up. Further out, farther away, everything dissolved into a morass of stories and symbols.

Soundwave barely had a moment to panic before the hurricane closed in on him, shrieking and tearing at his firewalls again until it drowned out everything, even the option of retreating back to his own body…

Then, suddenly, it opened up again, dropping him alone in a hallway. The howls drained away into near-silence. Only a faint mutter of mad rhymes echoed down the corridor.

A quick look around revealed that the hallway was a familiar one — Soundwave was on the _Victory_ outside the ship's vault, where the precious records they had brought with them from Cybertron were kept. The _Victory_ of Prowl's thoughts was darker than it was in truth, however, full of deep corners and mysterious shadows, lit only by the occasional biolight.

Above the soft din of Prowl's unintelligible thought mutterings, Soundwave heard the tread of heavy footsteps approaching. He turned, looking for the source, wondering how any of this was relevant to his question. He pushed that thought aside quickly though, focusing on recording as much detail as he could. Analysis could come later; it was challenging enough keeping up with the amount of information somehow compressed into Prowl's processor without running simultaneous background processes.

With footsteps echoing with malice, equations somehow following in his wake, Lord Megatron strode ponderously into view. But not Megatron as Soundwave knew him. This Megatron was plain grey metal, pitted and scratched and unpolished, with biolights that glowed with a sickly purple hue. There was… something _wrong_ with his profile, though it was difficult to figure out just what.

Optics of almost pure red swept the corridor, somehow missing Soundwave. He got no sense of his thoughts from his own telepathic sense — there was no reason he should in another’s memory — but the mad whispers of Prowl’s mind coalesced for a moment into something coherent, mimicking the other mech’s thoughts. _Power,_ they echoed, Megatron’s mind burning and consumed with a fixation that rivaled anything Soundwave had encountered in Ultra Magnus… Megatron passed by without seeing him, while Knockout (almost unchanged, save his bright red color and the wickedness dripping almost tangibly from his plating) followed in his wake. The doctor, also, did not seem to see their visitor.

Soundwave couldn't help but feel that was a very good thing.

Cautiously stepping away from the wall, he crept silently after them toward the vault. The simultaneous familiar/unfamiliar feeling he got from the two mechs was disconcerting, and brought to mind a parallel from Cliffjumper's processor — the same-not-same reaction he always had to everyone.

When they reached the vault, Megatron opened it and walked in while Knockout waited by the doorway. It was dark, lit only by a bright light from above shining down on a hammer — the Forge of Solus Prime, which Ultra Magnus had long wielded in battle. But like the changed Megatron, the malicious Knockout, and the dark _Victory,_ it too wasn't the same. This hammer still crackled with _Power,_ coiled and leashed in a bare skin of metal.

Megatron stopped at the edge of the spotlight and chuckled darkly. Now Soundwave could see what was wrong with his frame: his arm was not his. More than just the absence of his signature fusion cannon, it was a dull red, strangely lopsided, with odd fingers compared to Megatron's other, normal, hand. It… equations burned bright at the shoulder, twisting down the arm with threads of layered meanings Soundwave couldn't understand. Corrupted code, from Prowl’s memory.

"Yes," Megatron said to himself, arrogant pride and overconfidence hovering around him in Prowl’s whispers. He reached with the off, wrong hand to the Forge, picking it up. Lightning crackled along the weapon at his touch. Blue energy surged as he slowly lifted the hammer, brandishing it above his head. "At long last, the power of the Primes belongs to me!"

This was wrong. Completely wrong. Soundwave tried to reconcile this Megatron with his leader, his friend, and failed. Was _this_ the mech Cliffjumper knew? Soundwave glanced at Knockout, at the sick glee in his optics and eager pseudo-visions of carnage and dripping energon in his processor, and suddenly worried who else might appear. He didn't want to see any more of his friends like this… to see _himself_ like this.

While he hesitated, Megatron turned and stalked away, part of his arm dissolving into ones and zeros as it passed right through Soundwave, reforming into a complete image on the other side. Megatron left the vault and Knockout closed the door behind them, plunging the room into darkness once more, save for the spotlight.

Was it the world around him that wasn't solid? Or Soundwave himself? Either way, Soundwave walked over to the door, preparing to try stepping through the wall to get back outside the vault.

The world dissolved into binary, machine-level code, deeper than any thought, any programming, almost as deep as the ember itself, as he passed through the door. Then the world reformed, once again solid on the other side. Megatron, still that strange, malevolent, disfigured shadow of himself, both terrifying and compelling, was turning the corner at the end of the hall, dutifully attended by the sycophant wearing Knockout's frame.

Following in their footsteps, Soundwave traversed the corridors unseen behind them. The darkened guts of the _Victory_ passed in a blur of unimportance, and suddenly they were arriving at… a room he didn’t recognise. Like the vault, there was a pedestal lit only by a circle of bright light from above. This one, however, was dimmer; purple. Dreadwing waited there, honor and bravery coiling around him along with alien arrogance.

He saluted Megatron as he approached. "All is ready," the heavy flier said.

Megatron ignored him, stepping up to the pedestal — _altar-altar-altar-altar,_ chanted Prowl's muttering thoughts — to examine the coils of entropy made solid that rested there. The mech himself still wasn't visibly present, but those thoughts indicated there was some kind of symbolism here, for all that it seemed to be a real memory of a real event. Soundwave watched on, intrigued, wondering what it was all building to.

Apparently pleased with the… glowing _thing_ on the pedestal/altar, Megatron started hammering it. Dreadwing and Knockout looked on, talking to each other — _exposition for the audience,_ Prowl's thoughts hissed.

"The Forge of Solus Prime possesses the ability to create anything from raw material," Dreadwing said conversationally.

"And in this case, said raw material would be a big hunk of Dark Energon," Knockout responded.

The substance the strange Megatron was working with looked familiar to Soundwave, if a bit odd. The name Dark Energon didn't mean anything to him — he'd heard the Decepticon scientists refer to something called 'anti-energon' before — but regardless of what they were calling it, he knew it was what Ultra Magnus had somehow used to resurrect the dead frame of one of their own.

Nothing good could possibly be made of it, as far as Soundwave was concerned. So what were they trying to achieve?

Megatron hammered away, striking and shaping. Time/not time passed, an eternity in an eyeblink. Megatron hammered, each blow sapping a portion of his strength, integers draining away from the sickly purple darkness infusing his ember to the thing he was trying to create. His frame didn’t tremble, his body as strong as ever, but Soundwave could see the way the crafting sapped him in a way no one, not he nor the two mechs watching, could understand.

Whispers and mutters circled like wolves, nipping at their heels… Prowl might have the best idea of what was going on, but that understanding was tainted by his own madness. None of it made sense to Soundwave.

Finally, as the crafting came to a close, Soundwave heard the soft footsteps of another mech approaching — through the looking glass, a mirror! Again he turned toward the footsteps, struggling to focus through the thoughts buffeting his mind. Dreadwing and Knockout both stepped aside to allow the newcomer to pass: a tall, slender mech, hunched over spindly limbs, stalked forward quietly. A mirror indeed… his own dark reflection.

The memory from Prowl's processor blurred for a moment with one Soundwave had seen from Cliffjumper; he had seen this version of himself before, if only fleetingly. He tried to avoid seeing this version of himself in their ally's thoughts, for he found it disturbing, but somehow this was worse than anything he'd seen from Cliffjumper. Here, he could see some of what Prowl seemed to, and the most disturbing things weren't what was different… but what was similar. He could hear the admiration his double had for their — his! — Lord, the pride he took in Megatron’s victories and his own part in them.

Laughter skittered along Soundwave's nervous system — Prowl's.

Soundwave struggled against the inertia of the moment, trying to step back from the growing gathering but unable to move.

Soundwave, the strange, dark blue Soundwave, walked right through his lighter reflection. Shouldn't something be different about passing through your own reflection? But there was nothing. Just the same dissolution of the world into ones and zeros, almost ember-deep binary, before the other Soundwave emerged and reformed, his journey to stand before Megatron uninterrupted.

The anticlimax was enough to break the spell. Soundwave mirrored his reflection's gaze, looking up at Megatron.

Megatron returned the look, pausing in the construction of his nearly-completed artifact. The dark Soundwave displayed a set of coordinates on his mask, a location on Earth.

"You have decoded the next set of Iacon coordinates. Excellent work, Soundwave." Megatron sounded pleased.

Then he set the Forge aside. It clanged against the ground, abandoned. With his wrong/disfigured hand, Megatron reached for the — artifact — and hefted it, revealing a huge, jagged crystal sword. The sick, purple glow of anti-energon flared bright, bright as a sun — and just as deadly — for a moment, overwhelming Soundwave and blasting him in an instant back to his own mind and perceptions.

Prowl was still kneeling submissively at his feet. Laughing.

It took Soundwave a moment to realize he was back in his own frame and hearing Prowl laughing out loud rather than inside his head — or rather, out loud as well as inside his head. His processor was in a fog trying to do too much at once. He couldn't move at all.

When he finally snapped out of it, Soundwave pulled back his data cable and soundlessly staggered away from Prowl, backing into the door. Finding the commands to move his own frame was an immense effort, but the pain of his injuries helped to ground him enough to send a wordless comm to Knockout to let him out.

Later he would watch the medbay surveillance footage of himself stumbling out of the cell, mask completely dark and blank. He would see Knockout and Breakdown trying to talk to him, to get any kind of response from him, while he slowly, very slowly turned toward their voices but didn't answer. He didn't remember walking over to one of the berths and laying down before sinking into powersave as his overwhelmed systems shut down.


	10. Chapter 9

_ Re-orienting. _

_ Processing. _

_ Data analysis: pending. _

When Soundwave was next able to process things like sight and sound (and Knockout yelling at him in his thoughts), he was horizontal on one of the med-berths. He could feel the professional brush of the medic's diagnostic routines monitoring his progress filing the… whatever it was… information from Prowl, but not interfering. At the moment, that process consisted of breaking down and storing what he had seen in as much detail as possible, saving it all to long-term memory before the files could degrade.

Laserbeak had returned and docked to assist, adding her processing power to Soundwave's. Even so, it took him a moment to be able to do more than register the external input. At last, Soundwave was able to acknowledge Knockout in his processor, giving a brief digital handshake over their connection.

Medical Observation: Authorization WhoIsTheShiniest775 came the response. Soundwave realized his systems had been recognizing it automatically, since Knockout had been transmitting it even before he requested it. How long had he been unconscious? His chronometer proved that it hadn't actually been very long. According to the timestamps, the hardline with Prowl hadn't lasted more than a couple of kliks, and Soundwave had only been down afterward for a little over a breem. 

It felt like it should have been longer. And he still felt somewhat… off.

Knockout waited patiently — or at least his medical presence waited patiently, the diagnostics neither pushing nor retreating, just observing — while mentally snarling to himself that it would do no good to start beating Soundwave over the head with a WRENCH until he was awake enough to understand why he deserved it.

The projected desire to berate him, combined with his lingering disorientation, made Soundwave feel like he'd  _ already _ been hit over the head with a wrench. But continuing to lay still hoping Knockout would calm down wouldn't delay the inevitable.

If anything, keeping him waiting would probably make it worse.

Knockout was surely aware his thoughts were being overheard, but he still waited. He was a professional, after all, and  _ he _ could see what Soundwave was doing through his diagnostic protocols. Rushing him through sorting the data would cause more problems than it was worth.

Finally Soundwave had enough bandwidth back after quarantining the unexpected information to shift his attention more fully to Knockout.  _ Data archiving complete _ flashed through his processor where both of them could see it:  _ No errors. _

"Good," Knockout responded tersely as he — painfully — yanked his cord from Soundwave’s access port. "At least you didn't fry your SLAGGING circuits," he snarled. "DON'T try and get up yet. I still need to fill in the armor on your leg, which I wouldn't have to if you'd kept your fragging distance from the crazy mech. I don't know which is worse right now, cuddling with the crazy or hardlining with it!"

"Soundwave: was not cuddling," Soundwave protested, the playback volume fluctuating at first before evening out. He remained lying on the berth, obedient to the command not to get up. 

"Damn well looked like cuddling, which was fine until he turned violent with you pinned beneath him," Knockout hissed while he dug out the solder used to fill in deep gashes in a mech's armor, the proper flux, and a blowtorch. 

"Damage to leg: serious?"

Knockout didn't answer the question. "It's a fragging miracle he didn't decide to rip out your ember." His voice cracked, and for a brief moment Soundwave saw through the cloud of anger to the fear concealed beneath it. He was truly afraid that Soundwave had done serious harm to himself by hardlining with Prowl, or that he could have died when Prowl turned violent.

Outside the cell, with distance between him and what happened and Knockout's fear and memory of it right there, Soundwave felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn't meant to frighten the medic so badly, or to wind up in that vulnerable a position. Things had just developed (and deteriorated) very quickly.

"Soundwave: grateful he did not," he said, not exactly apologizing but acknowledging the danger he'd been in. The physical danger, anyway. "Difficulty with hardline: unanticipated."

Knockout switched off the pain sensors in the leg he was working on, brushed flux over the scratches, and started filling them in with solder. "Given how he hacks the sedation programs, of course he would have some nasty tac-comp constructed viruses to keep out intruders." He obviously wasn't mollified over the clawmarks, but had decided there wasn't much else to say on the subject.

"No…" Soundwave remembered the shock of how open Prowl's processor had been, how the lack of any kind of resistance had thrown him off-balance enough for Prowl to pull him under with that… that memory. "Prowl: did not attack Soundwave. No attempts made to hack."

Disbelief briefly overcame anger in Knockout's processor, piggybacking a memory of just how unresponsive he'd been in the immediate aftermath: blank facial screen, completely non-verbal leaving Prowl's cell. He had been afraid in that moment that Prowl had somehow — impossible as it should have been — overwhelmed Soundwave's defenses and reprogrammed him.

It went unspoken. Outwardly, Knockout simply narrowed his optics and concentrated on his work.

"Prowl: showed Soundwave  _ —-~!! _ " The recording broke off into a discordant squeak before cutting off abruptly, but there was no indication of a processing error. Soundwave still had access to all of his sound clips, and none of his tags were corrupted.

Long practiced at talking around things when he had difficulties, Soundwave tried to find a different way to describe what he had seen. " _ —*~… _ "

Knockout immediately stopped his soldering, the torch going abruptly silent as the medic refocused his attention. "Soundwave," he said, sounding worried as he came back to the head of the berth, clearly intending to jack back in and run another diagnostic.

Soundwave edged back just slightly, raising his hand to signal 'wait'. He tried to display the thought in glyphs on his visor, only to watch the symbols corrupt and pixelate. He cleared it quickly, displaying  _ Systems: not reporting errors _ instead with no difficulty.

Knockout's worry was still overriding his anger. "I should check you for viruses again anyway."

"Communication, not compromised. Subject of discussion, compromised," Soundwave tried playing another recording. This time it worked, though it didn't express very clearly what he was trying to get across. "Soundwave, saw… something… in Prowl's processor. Prowl: did not hack or upload. Soundwave: initiated download and transfer upon viewing."

"I oversaw your archiving process," Knockout said, still worried. "It all looked corrupt to me, a copy of the mech's glitches, I assume." _ I should still run a scan. _

"Soundwave: can process the data. Issue: translation." Just like Prowl, he realized as he said it. However the corruption worked, it was possible to function with it — but not to communicate clearly through it. He had wanted to know how it worked… 

"Still…" Knockout said, keeping him from following that tangent. "May I?"

"Permission: granted." Soundwave didn't move away this time. He angled his helm so Knockout had easier access. "Caution advised."

Knockout's diagnostics were professional and emotionless as he connected, exchanged handshake protocols, and answered the automatic queries for authorization with MirorMirorOnTheWall9975321 — his code asking for deep-scan access. Soundwave watched his cursor skim over his code, examining tags and opening files. Unsurprisingly, Knockout flagged the entire… ‘memory’ from Prowl as unreadable corrupt code, but found nothing that should be affecting anything outside it. The 'damaged' data was isolated.

_ Can you still access the data as a — you're calling it a memory — memory?  _ It didn't look to Knockout like any sort of memory file  _ he'd  _ ever seen.

_ Affirmative. _ Soundwave queued up part of the datafile, but didn’t initiate anything further. From his end, he could see and recognize the preliminary tags he'd constructed during the archiving process (there weren't many, he needed to spend a  _ lot  _ more time on it to do a proper job), but he could see that from Knockout's perspective, the tags were just as corrupt as the source file.

_ Not sure how useful those tags are, _ Knockout confirmed his inability to read them.  _ But I don't see anything that's affecting anything outside the file you've archived it in. It's not even cross-tagged with your other memories. _

Which, from Soundwave’s point of view, wasn't true at all. The memory might not have all the references it needed, or all the ones he was going to add when he had a chance, but there were a few cross-tags already… especially in regards to that disturbing mirror-reflection of himself with what hed seen from Cliffjumper of the mech.

_ Cross-tags, present,  _ Soundwave told Knockout, highlighting the relevant lines of code.  _ Correlation between prior data from Cliffjumper and …-~…-. _

Worriedly Knockout went over the corrupt code again, but saw no activity beyond Soundwave’s attempt to access it. Then he quickly skimmed over his list of tags for Cliffjumper — not the memories themselves, since some of those were from the telepathic component of interrogations, or just from running into him in the hallway, and were either classified, private, or both. The list was immense, several tags written especially  _ for  _ Cliffjumper to deal with how different he was, but none of them were corrupt. 

Soundwave couldn’t see any difference between them and the corresponding tags on the data he had gotten from Prowl, but obviously Knockout did. Finally the medic huffed in frustration.  _ No more hardlining with that mech, _ he said.  _ His crazy seems to be mildly contagious. _

The joke was an attempt to cover his deepening worry. On one hand it was a good thing that the corrupt code didn't seem to be spreading, but it was worrying that Soundwave’s perception and his, even from within his processor, were so different.

He wanted to delete the code, though he hadn't suggested it yet.

_ Corruption, not spreading beyond source file. Glitches, imported with cache.  _ Using a modified version of the glyph for memory allowed it to come through undistorted, though it so inaccurately described the data it almost wasn’t worth using. 

Knockout frowned at the inaccurate glyph. Even from his perspective, it didn’t fit the data. He still wasn’t seeing a functional memory file, but he had to admit that because of the perceptional gap he couldn’t suggest downloading it to an exterior drive — for all he knew, doing so would cause it to be as incomprehensible to Soundwave as it was to him.

_ Soundwave: wishes to analyze data further,  _ Soundwave pressed. He could understand what he was looking at, or rather, he could see it and not have it be complete gibberish. But he needed more time with it to work out what it meant.

_ You WILL comm me — or come here, or send up fragging SMOKE SIGNALS — if you have ANY issues with it at all. And I want you to come in every few days so that I can determine if it's spreading, since you can't see that for yourself right now. We still don't know what caused this in Prowl, or if it really is contagious. _

_ Agreed.  _ That was actually eminently reasonable, and being able to see what others couldn't see would be helpful to Soundwave in trying to understand it as well. And he really didn't want to have it suddenly cause problems, even though he didn't think that it would.

Knockout withdrew once again, examining his half-finished work on the armor scratches and sighed. "Don't move until I've finished this." With that, he reapplied the flux and got back to work.

He never did say exactly how bad the injury was.

While Knockout worked more on his leg, Soundwave went over the uncorrupted conversation he'd been having with Prowl before the hardline. He'd gone in to try to find out why Prowl wasn't cooperating with Knockout (not to cuddle with him, thank you very much!), and he wondered if he'd managed to get an answer after all.

He remembered what Prowl had told him, that ‘candy-blue’ didn’t have anything to sacrifice… An answer, one that obviously made sense to Prowl, but not one that was transparent to Soundwave. It was plain that for Prowl, ‘sacrifices’ were necessary for information —  _ Services can be gifted; Answers COST —  _ and he clearly felt  _ compelled  _ to answer when that price was met. But Knockout just wanted to keep fixing him. How was that information, rather than a service? 

Whatever angle Soundwave needed to tilt the puzzle to make the pieces slide into place, he wasn’t seeing it. But even if he couldn’t explain why Prowl had been so uncooperative, he had learned one definitive thing: "Prowl's fans and filters: need cleaning.  _ Badly. _ "

"I know," Knockout snorted, not feeling charitable towards the feral right now. "It's on the list." None of Prowl's injuries, he thought, were life-threatening any longer, though he couldn't help but feel pity for the amount of neglect and abuse they represented. Even angry — furious — at Prowl for what had just happened, he intended to repair the mech to the best of his ability… if he could just get close to the slagger!

"Candy-blue has nothing to sacrifice…" Soundwave played back, on the off-chance Knockout might be able to make some sense of it. Hearing Prowl's voice through his speakers sounded eerie though, and he had to suppress a shiver. That would just make Knockout's tools slip.

"I don't speak crazy," Knockout said flatly. "He let  _ you _ repair him." There was a faint prickle of the medic's wounded pride in the statement, pride which had previously been buried under fear and frustration and worry. "Are you sure he's not your pet?" Anger and pride fueled the quip, making it sharp in a way that was disturbingly similar to the other Knockout, the one Soundwave had seen in Prowl's mind. Again, the thought came unbidden: the most disturbing thing wasn't what made them different, but what was the same.

Soundwave's tagging system started automatically cross-tagging #DisturbingSimilarities-Knockout. 

"Knockout: approached repairs how?" Soundwave asked, trying to focus on something else and shut down the process. Maybe it was how Knockout had gone about it, not the repairs themselves, that was the problem.

Knockout sighed again. "I wasn't even doing any repairs yet, just trying to get some scans so that I could schedule a time in your  _ incredibly _ busy—" #DisturbingSimilarities-Knockout "—schedule, since I need you here monitoring him while I get the actual—" #DisturbingSimilarities-Knockout "—repairs done."

"Scans? Diagnostics?" Information, in other words. Information which, if Prowl was really being that persnickety, Knockout hadn't offered him anything in return for. Soundwave thought that was a little bit unfair if that was really the issue; Prowl wouldn't be  _ telling _ Knockout anything. A scan was just a medic observing in a more detailed way than other mechs were capable of, like Soundwave with his telepathy, which Prowl hadn't seemed to have a problem with. Then again, Prowl had implied that he could choose to make things harder if he wanted to when Soundwave had been trying to clean his engine:  _ This was the sacrifice. He was allowed to make it difficult. _ In which case, he was making them difficult for Knockout, but not for Soundwave.

Relatively speaking. Nothing about dealing with Prowl was exactly easy.

Knockout shut off the torch, his repairs finished, and examined the solder-lines critically. "Yeah… you're as functional as it's possible to make you." #DisturbingSimilarities-Knockout. He reactivated the sensors in Soundwave's leg and motioned him to stand. "Up now."

Putting his thoughts on hold for a moment, Soundwave sat up slowly in response to Knockout's order, checking his balance before swinging his legs over the side of the berth to stand without difficulty. Knockout didn't seem particularly worried (about the injury; he was still plenty worried about how reckless Soundwave was being, his thoughts said).

"Repairs: appreciated." Soundwave stepped away from the berth and glancing over to where Breakdown was keeping an optic on Prowl via the monitors. He started to walk over to check on Prowl himself, but then he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall next to the monitoring equipment.

Nothing had changed about his reflection, objectively. Other than the new weld lines on his leg, he looked the same as ever. Only now, Soundwave had the indelible image of the  _ other _ Soundwave — Cliffjumper's Soundwave — in his memory, superimposed on his own in the mirror. His processor furiously cross-tagged everything, from his face mask to his gait with #DisturbingSimilarities-Me.

He couldn't get it to stop. Shunting the tags away as quickly as possible as they continued to pop up, Soundwave continued walking over to the monitor. He nodded to Breakdown before focusing on the screen, looking for Prowl.

The mech wasn't currently visible, but Breakdown spoke up before Soundwave could wonder where he was. "He's under the berth, sir. Went under there as soon as the two of you disconnected and hasn't been back out since. Not even a twitch."

Soundwave vaguely remembered Prowl ducking under the berth; it didn't surprise him that he was still there. It was his favorite place to be, unless Soundwave was in the cell with him.

…Did Prowl just like him better? Was he making things difficult for Knockout and not as difficult for him on purpose out of some bizarre preference? 

There wasn’t enough data to do more than hypothesize. Soundwave certainly wasn't going to bring it up with Knockout right now. Not with the snippy mood the medic was in, with his processor spawning all those tags every other word.

It made him want to talk to Cliffjumper again, Soundwave reflected. If he  _ could _ talk about what he'd seen, anyway. He'd have to experiment and see if he could find a way around the corruption he'd brought into his own processor.

But he could do that later. Right now, Prowl was more important.

Cautiously, Soundwave extended his telepathy out to Prowl, leery of overextending himself after his not-quite-crash. He found Prowl in recharge, but there was something a bit… off about his tactical computer's constant susurrus of computations.

Trailing a (not literal) cloud of grumpy thoughts, Knockout came over to glare down at the screen too. Soundwave weighed his curiosity against his energy levels and the lingering decrease in his processing speed. The latter was only slightly inconvenient; Soundwave acknowledged it, then let curiosity win out. He 'listened' more closely, focusing on Prowl past Knockout's disapproving cloud.

It was almost ten Earth seconds before the tac-comp finally noticed his telepathic presence, suggested a countermeasure, and was rejected; a sequence which usually came within a nanoklik of first touching Prowl's thoughts.  _ That's _ what was off about it; the tac-comp was still calculating threat/no threat classification and responses at one of the highest processing speeds Soundwave had ever encountered, but it was much slower than it usually was. 

It was odd, experiencing Prowl's processor in real-time for once, but it was also a good thing. "Prowl: tired. Processing speed, reduced," Soundwave told Knockout. "Repairs: might be possible now."

Knockout's first thought was extremely uncharitable — #DisturbingSimilarities — but then he made an interesting sound with his engine, consciously and systematically tensing and untensing cables throughout his frame as a sort of small meditation. This was his duty, he reminded himself. "If you're sure," he said. Despite recent lapses in judgement around Prowl in regards to personal safety, he trusted Soundwave would remain objective and alert with Knockout's health at stake.

"Affirmative," Soundwave said, answering both the spoken and unspoken sentiments. "Soundwave: will monitor for warning signs."

At the concern in Knockout's processor over how cooperative Prowl was(n't) before, he considered saying something about Prowl’s behavior after all. The distinction between actions and knowledge in Prowl's processor was significant, but explaining to Knockout that Prowl was (probably) fighting him because he didn't want to give up information without something in exchange — at least, not to Knockout in the form of allowing him to perform scans while not actively doing repairs — would be tricky. Partly because finding the words to express the concept would be difficult, and partly because Knockout would probably be offended.

"Hypothesis: regarding Knockout's difficulty earlier," he began, waiting for the medic to gather up his tools.

Knockout paused a moment before acknowledging that with, "Is this something I should know before or after I go in there?" He had much more extensive, deep, repairs planned this time; Soundwave could hear that he had in fact  _ changed _ his plan: instead of spreading the repairs out across a second and third session, he meant to get as much done as possible now. Better not to count on it being safe enough for a third repair session later. Prowl had become a major threat in his mind, not just an incidental one, and he wanted him secure in the brig as soon as possible. Once the repairs were done, he could monitor integration remotely just as easily there as here. As such, if what Soundwave wanted to say was going to interfere with doing as much as possible right now, Knockout didn't want to hear it unless it was of critical importance.

"Details, irrelevant." Those would only aggravate and distract. However, the rest might give him more confidence that Prowl wasn't going to attack this time, so Soundwave continued, "Salient point: problem, conducting scans without doing repairs. Intent now: to do repairs immediately following scans." Which sounded bizarre when said out loud, but really — what about Prowl didn't sound strange?

Ironically enough, Knockout's mental response to that was,  _ How bizarre. _ "Fine. Let's get this over with." He rubbed at a small scratch on his finish. "And you owe me a buffing after this."

Soundwave knew that was more of joke than a demand, but it still set off a cascade of #DisturbingSimilarities tags threading through his processor. He fought to suppress them again for a moment and then finally gave it up as a bad cause. It was faster just to log them and deal with them later, and he needed to pay attention now, even if Prowl  _ was  _ slower than usual for the moment.

Knockout and Breakdown prepared to open the door to the cell, Breakdown acting as the brace to keep the door from being forced open from the inside. Not that Soundwave expected any such attempts this time, but Knockout's engine gave a surprised rev when Prowl didn't rush them when Soundwave gestured Breakdown to go ahead, even knowing the mech was in recharge.

As soon as the door was open enough, Knockout moved into the room with a #DisturbingSimilarities swagger. There was no way of knowing how long Prowl would remain like this, but he was hoping for a  _ long _ session of repairs.

Prowl stayed asleep, under the berth, as the door swung shut behind Soundwave. Of course the tactical computer noticed the intruders, almost immediately — but it was still lagging, and while it quickly reviewed its data (including more corrupt code) and came back with No threat — Nil action, Soundwave was able to keep up easily.

"Prowl: aware of our presence. Taking no action."

Recalling the first repair session, Knockout nodded and walked up to the berth. "Help me get him up on here."

Well aware of just how recently Prowl's claws had torn into him, Soundwave carefully reached toward the sleeping mech, listening for that No threat — Nil Action output for reassurance. It continued in a constant litany that was, as it had been the first time, almost hypnotic. Prowl didn't move when he touched him. No threat — Nil Action. Together, he and Knockout pulled the unresisting Praxan out of his nest and carefully lifted him up onto the berth. 

Knockout started running his scans as soon as he was settled, not wanting to waste any time. A moment later he stopped in surprise and looked up into Soundwave's faceplate.  _ I know you can hear me fine, but I need to be able to hear your response, _ he thought very deliberately, and slid the cover for his own neural port aside.

That was unexpected. Soundwave smoothly extended a data cable to link up with the medic, gently connecting and extending an open query to proceed. After his experience with Prowl, it was a relief to encounter normal, friendly firewalls.

"Both his subspace generator and his communications suite are active," was the first thing Knockout said over their connection.

"Already?" That had happened quickly! Their conservative estimate hadn't been conservative enough, apparently.

"His armor is still extremely thin," Knockout continued, still scanning. "He's rewritten his self-repair priorities. Transformation should have been first, and that after his vital systems and armor were both within 70-95% of pristine. Which," his code-voice took on a #DisturbingSimilarities sarcastic edge, "they are  _ not _ ."

"Edits: well implemented?" Even mechs skilled at reworking their own code had to be very careful when doing so not to create more problems than they solved. Tinkering in one's own systems without the assistance of a medic was dangerous.

_ Joy. We're going to have to go through his subspace today too. _ The thought had the odd resonance of being extremely loud telepathically in addition to echoing through their data connection, not fully formed like the sentence that followed. "Given I don't have access to his processor, I can't tell you, but I'm not seeing any of the usual physical issues that tend to crop up when someone mucks with their self-repair. Without checking his code, the best I can say is he hasn't killed himself yet."

The ability to restructure priorities like that would be extremely useful in terms of adaptability. If it was something Prowl had been doing for a long time, and doing well, not only had it not killed him yet but it was highly unlikely to. "Adjusting self-repair, related to successful survival in harsh conditions?" Soundwave suggested. 

"Probably, but I shudder to think of the sort of conditions that would require a mech to pick up that sort of skill." Finished with his scans, Knockout began on the easiest of the remaining repairs: replacing Prowl's fans and filters. "Bad news is, given that I can't tell you where on his priority tree transformation repair falls, my time estimate about when that'll come back up is understandably useless." More #DisturbingSimilarities sarcasm. "Good news is, based on what I can see of his transformation seams, he's a standard sized ground car for his frametype and doesn't appear to be armed."

_ Except those fragging claws, of course. _

That was mostly positive then. Soundwave sent a wordless affirmation of Knockout's statement and pulled up the construction schedule for the brig cell to share with him. It was nearing completion, but wasn't quite ready yet. However, there was room for the time table to be accelerated slightly.

"Good," Knockout said, urgency transmitting across the hardline with the words, "because he can't stay here with his communications active." Which was all too true. Soundwave made a note to check for any infiltrations, just in case. Anything major would probably already have drawn his attention, but then he hadn't been looking for Prowl’s interference that way yet, and wouldn't know when he needed to.

Silently Knockout moved on to deeper repairs, though he still wasn't doing anything that would require sedation in a regular, compliant patient. Soundwave took a moment to send a quick update to Starscream and the mechs working on the remaining physical upgrades to the brig cell, informing them that they needed to work as quickly as possible. Starscream sent back a High Priority message demanding to know when exactly Soundwave had learned how to stop time, because that was the only way he would be able to devote more of it to his pet project… but he was going to assign more grunts to do scutwork. 

The message flooded Soundwave's processor with #DisturbingSimilarities tags that practically blacked out his HUD before they were filed even though Starscream hadn't appeared in the… vision.

With an internal sigh, Soundwave resigned himself to having to request a stimulant from Knockout so he could pull a long shift when the time came to finish his part of the work. The doctor didn't like to use stimulants to allow mechs to overwork themselves, but could be persuaded by necessity — and he wanted Prowl back in the brig too.

Since they were linked up, Soundwave created a real-time display to indicate Prowl's status for Knockout, for the moment showing only the mech's tired/compliant/nil action status. Knockout glanced at it and snorted before going back to work. Tired as he was, Prowl's tac-comp was still calculating fast enough that Knockout only truly registered one out of every three No threat — Nil action messages.

It was joors before anything changed. No sooner had Knockout informed Soundwave that he'd gotten to the point in the repairs — past the point, in fact — where he truly needed to sedate the patient than the tactical computer went ballistic. Soundwave didn't know  _ how  _ Prowl knew what Knockout was going to do since the medic had told him over their secure data connection, but the sudden attempt to boot up Prowl's conscious mind couldn't have been a response to anything else.

"Prowl: waking up," Soundwave told Knockout swiftly, tensing to pull back if necessary.

"Hold him down!" Knockout responded, scrambling for the mech's neural port. The whole point of getting him properly sedated was to prevent something like this during the deeper repairs!

Prowl's boot sequence was decidedly… groggy. It was an emergency boot, such as those some Special Ops mechs had, foregoing higher-decisionmaking (including anything involving the corrupt code), emotions, even awareness, in order to quickly gain enough motor control to respond to the 'threat'. There wasn't enough conscious thought in that state to even try reasoning with a normal mech, much less an insane one like Prowl. His mindset — if it could truly be called a mindset — completely ignored the tactical computer's helpful suggestions about how much energon Soundwave and Knockout had in their lines and how best to access it in favor of threat-response. 

Following Knockout's direction, Soundwave moved to restrain Prowl. Expecting resistance, he tried projecting a calming EM field and a soft, almost subsonic purring sound. It might not have any effect on the mech's hard-coded reactions, but he did it anyway, trying to soothe him as he held on firmly to keep Prowl from lashing out at Knockout. It didn't make a difference. The only upside as Prowl struggled against him was that he was still processing slower than normal. Five different plans to escape Soundwave's hold (three of which would gut him in the process) flitted through Prowl's processor before hard-coded reactions encrypted his thoughts. Soundwave felt him tense under his hands, preparing to strike along one of those strategies. He was going to have to guess which—

—and then Prowl went limp. His processor shut down, sedated. The thought encryption deactivated, and the tactical computer immediately switched to hacking the sedation. Knockout had gotten the sedation chip into the mech's port and uploaded it.

"Soundwave, confirm that he's under," Knockout snapped tersely across their connection.

"Confirmed. Under; countering sedation," Soundwave answered without relaxing his hold. That had been pretty close timing.

"Right. Tell me when he's about to kill this one so I can upload the next." Knockout set into the next repair right away. He was on a time limit — exactly how long of one he didn't know — and he needed to get things done.

Splitting his focus between Knockout and Prowl, Soundwave listened so he could move out of the doctor’s way, shift Prowl, or hand over a tool without being asked. Anything to help Knockout be as efficient as possible. He kept watch on the sedation program, watching the metaphorical progress bar as Prowl continued to burn through it. He was marginally slower than last time (that had only taken about three kliks), but that didn't mean Knockout would finish before he did. Between the complexity of the program and the lag in his processor, Soundwave estimated they had about ten kliks before Prowl finished dismantling it and rebooted to attack them. He set a warning to go off when there was one klik left, giving Knockout sixty-four Earth seconds to upload the next chip.

"Sedation: failing soon," he warned when it went off, the interruption inconvenient but necessary. Knockout extricated his claws from the mech's internals and inserted a second sedation program, then returned to doing something Soundwave didn't understand with the mech's fuel-pump.

For close to two joors, Prowl continued to burn through sedatives at a rate of about one per breem, giving Soundwave a new appreciation for just how many custom sedatives Knockout had made for each of the crew's specialized needs. It took Prowl only six kliks at his current exhausted rate to hack one specialized for Megatron's systems, and almost twenty-five kliks to hack the one for Soundwave himself.

Fortunately, Knockout finally announced himself done with the repairs before they ran out completely. "Two kliks remaining," Soundwave said, checking the status of the current program. "Nothing additional required?"

"One more thing," Knockout said, inserting the chip he had made for Cliffjumper. "We've still got to go through his subspace. And ideally I'd need follow-up scans, which I doubt I’ll be able to get once he's awake again." Manually, Knockout accessed Prowl's subspace generator. A thin crack in space appeared, indicating an open subspace pocket. "Start pulling things out while I set this thing to remain open."

Disconnecting their link so they could both move more freely, Soundwave extended a hand into the pocket, curling his fingers around the first object they encountered. As soon as he lifted it partway out, it shuddered in his hand and emitted a low whine. Startled, Soundwave let go and let it fall the rest of the way to the floor, where it clattered and whirred as creaky gears spun to life. He didn't even take the time to properly take in what it was before shoving Knockout aside and pulling out his blaster. 

Knockout ducked and moved when Soundwave pushed him, the discipline of a long-time combat medic keeping his hands steady in his patient as he shifted into cover. Soundwave levelled his weapon at the thing and prepared to fire. 

The thing shook, little engines struggling to lift it into the air, where it wobbled with a series of pitiful clicks. It was clear what it was now: a combat drone, just like Cliffjumper had warned. But the disk-shaped mechanism was barely functioning, its weapons long-stuck in place and making horrible grinding noises as it tried, and failed, to target.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, Soundwave lowered his blaster. He stepped up to the drone and brought the hard edge of his arm down on it in a swift strike rather than shooting it, knocking it to the floor and pinning it under his foot. The thing gave out a distressed little whine that slowly faded as it shut down, the last of its energon spent.

"Hurry up and kill that thing. We need to get this done before Prowl wakes up, remember?" Knockout's acidic tone interrupted.

"No need," Soundwave said, stepping back and leaving it where it had died. "Breakdown: remove remains," he instructed, looking to the mech standing at the door. "Prowl, sedated. Will not escape."

Breakdown let himself in and gathered up the drone. A couple pieces of armor had come off it when Soundwave whacked it, but otherwise it appeared to have been put away in good shape before any sort of rust or corrosion could set in. Lack of energon, coolant, oil, and other vital fluids were all that was responsible for its condition.

Hoping that whatever he found next wouldn't be quite so exciting, Soundwave returned to Prowl's side and reached into his subspace again to continue emptying it. The drone had been there; would the rifle Cliffjumper had mentioned turn up too?

The next thing he encountered was a perfectly ordinary energon cube. It was full, pure and clean, and glowed blue in his hand. Soundwave held it up to look at it. Where had Prowl come by that? He found another as well, exactly like the first. Curious. Soundwave held one of the cubes out to Breakdown. "Test contents," he directed, wondering if an in depth examination would reveal anything more.

Still mostly preoccupied with hacking the sedation program, Prowl's tac-comp noted the removal of the cube from the room and started making nasty, violent plans to retrieve it. Soundwave, having expected that to some degree, sent a brief follow up to Breakdown to use as little of the energon as possible and to bring the cube back when he was finished. Hopefully that would prevent any of those plans from being set into motion, especially if Soundwave made up any difference to return a full cube.

Yet another cube was next, nestled in a collection of mesh scraps that caught on Soundwave's fingers as he pulled it free. Looking at one of the larger scraps, it was similar in composition to Laserbeak's blanket, the same as he had given Prowl earlier. If that was all they were — the remains of a shredded blanket — then there was no harm in leaving them to Prowl, once he finished clearing his subspace to make sure the scraps weren't concealing anything.

Soundwave pulled out a bunch of mesh scraps, along with several random bits and pieces of metal and circuitry. They looked like junk, unrecognizable parts to some larger device. He swept the soft, tiny shreds and other harmless detritus into a pile for Prowl to keep, separating out any larger mechanical trash to remove, before continuing.

A cylindrical shape, slightly bigger than an energon cube, was his next find. Soundwave curled his fingers around it and lifted it out to look it over. He'd only had a chance to examine the thing closely once before, but he recognized this object: it was the second cryptex he had given Prowl, the one with the more complex puzzle and the transmitter to alert Shockwave if he solved it.

That discovery put several things into a new perspective, and Soundwave realized what he'd been finding. Knockout had said that Prowl had already regained access to his subspace before they were aware of it: he'd been stashing the extra rations they'd been giving him, along with the puzzles. A second look at the loose circuitry and parts he had set aside proved them to be the remains of the first.

Soundwave put the unopened cryptex with the blanket scraps. Perhaps Prowl would decide to open it at some point. Reaching back into his subspace, the next object was an empty first aid kit. The box was badly corroded, preserved only by the nature of the subspace pocket. That must have gone in before Prowl lost access to his subspace, as was the next thing Soundwave pulled out: a dim crystallized shard of energon with marks in it that were consistent with having been gnawed on.

It probably wasn't harmful, if Prowl hadn't suffered any ill effects from chewing on it. Being solid it wouldn't be VAC contaminated, but checking it would still be prudent. Soundwave set it aside for Breakdown to analyze as well, then added the remains of the first aid box to what was left of the first cryptex.

He couldn't identify the next thing he found as easily. It was an odd shape, and difficult to maneuver. A weapon of some sort; that at least Soundwave could tell by the little missiles strapped to it. But beyond that, it was a mystery. Handling it carefully, Soundwave lifted it out of the subspace pocket to see if it was one he recognized.

…It was a seeker's arm.

That was even less expected than the combat drone. Soundwave held it aloft curiously, wondering if there was any way to identify its previous owner. Not likely, he was forced to conclude. The arm lacked anything that could be used as an identifying marker. It was an older model, and completely paint-stripped. Some bits of armor had been pried off and, like the crystal, the arm showed evidence of having been chewed on.

Soundwave heard Knockout's thoughts blank with shock when he saw it. Prowl had given them more than enough hints that he would and had eaten mechs in the past in his behavior, but this was the first physical evidence they had of it.

After a moment, Knockout curled his lip in disgust and went back to work. He wanted to finish his task and get Prowl safely in the brig. He was also seriously questioning the prudence of continued contact with Prowl, given Soundwave's attachment—

Soundwave flinched and drew his mind back. He didn't want to be barred from seeing Prowl, and hearing Knockout think that made him nervous. The medic could take what had happened with the hardline to Lord Megatron and paint it in a pretty negative light… Now wasn't the time to try talking with Knockout about his concerns, but Soundwave made a note to do so once they were done. He wanted to make sure he had a chance to present his side. For now, Soundwave put his worry, and the arm, aside. Into the discard pile it went; even if they removed the missiles (assuming they were even still viable), it could be used as a makeshift club. Not something they could leave in Prowl's possession.

More mesh scraps and metal shards, old and new… then a small, thick folder, like those occasionally used by those in professions where damage to communications equipment were common. Military mechs often used them to carry back-up identity documents. Clingy mesh shreds and a set of decaying plastic sheets fluttered out when Soundwave opened it. Faded, scratched, and torn — in ways that looked deliberate rather than accidental — they were useless as actual identification. The only thing still clear enough to make out was the Seal of Praxus on one of the sheets, ripped in two.

Clipped to the inside of the folder itself was a battered, dented, and even partially melted, police badge. It had been pretty thoroughly defaced; there was no way to identify who it had belonged to now. The damage was severe, but also strangely precise. Soundwave found it hard to believe it was accidental — accidental damage this severe would have destroyed the badge entirely.

Soundwave carefully gathered up the scattered sheets, wondering if it was worth it to make a closer inspection of them. He would probably learn more by leaving them with Prowl and watching him with them. Whatever it was, there had to be  _ some _ reason Prowl held onto them.

Shards and scraps…

The last intact object was another unrecognizable item. It looked a bit like an exquisitely crafted bird's feather, in every detail like those on Earth, but made from cybertronium and gold rather than organic matter. Much larger than the feather of any organic bird Soundwave had seen or researched, it draped easily over his hand, with excess falling over his palm at both ends.

The feather-like object was strange and beautiful. Soundwave made a detailed scan of it before placing it with the items to leave with Prowl. Perhaps if he cross-indexed the right references, he would find something about it later. Either way, he didn't need to keep it. It was safe to return it to Prowl, and Soundwave wanted to even without the warning of the violent intentions flickering through the tactical computer just from him touching it.

A final sweep of Prowl's subspace confirmed there was nothing left. He hadn't missed anything — that was all of it.

"Subspace: emptied," Soundwave told Knockout.

"Good. Let's get out of here and let him wake up," Knockout said, coming over to help carry out the 'remove' pile.

Breakdown arrived at the door just then, confirming via comms what Soundwave had already worked out about the liquid energon: it was from the mines on this planet, refined here on the  _ Victory. _ "Breakdown: test crystal also," Soundwave told him, trading the mostly full cube for the energon crystal. He reached into his own subspace and topped off the cube before replacing it with the others, and left an extra in place of the piece he'd taken. Then he gathered up what Knockout had been unable (or uneasy) to carry, including the disintegrating first aid box and the seeker's arm.

Prowl broke the sedation and rebooted just as they exited the cell. Soundwave was forced to kick the door closed behind him and lean heavily on it to hold it against Prowl's furious attempt to get through and maul them. Even with the door closed he could hear the enraged growling and scratching on the other side perfectly.

By rights, the repairs Knockout had done should have kept him in the berth, even without the sedation. Prowl didn't seem to care about that at all. The ferocity of his attacks and the sounds he was making were unnerving, and Soundwave made  _ very _ sure the door was firmly locked before he dared step away.

Knockout was very carefully not looking at Soundwave as he set down the arm and other debris, but his worrying was loud enough that Soundwave couldn't ignore it. "Knockout: concerned."

"I'm starting to believe he can't be rehabilitated." Knockout answered the prompt cautiously.

"Too soon to draw conclusions," Soundwave countered, though he was not so blind he couldn't see it would be a long, involved process… if it was possible at all.

Knockout ran a medical scan over the disembodied arm. "That is from very early in the war, Soundwave. This is a very long-standing behavior. And he's dangerous. And you let your guard down around him."

Behind them, Prowl didn't persist in futilely expending his energy against the door. The camera feed showed the scratches he'd left in it were deep, and Soundwave shuddered to think of those blows landing on his plating. Prowl started circling, crawling on all fours in his crouching, feral posture back to the pile of things they'd left him. The first thing he subspaced was the golden feather-thing. Then he kicked the folder of ruined documents off the berth, scattering them, before subspacing everything else.

"I'm worried," Knockout said as they watched. "I don't want to say it, but we don't have the ability to help him."

"Alternatives — what?" Soundwave felt cold considering their other options. Long term imprisonment with no hope of recovery was a waste of resources, but they couldn't just let Prowl roam freely about the ship. As Knockout had pointed out, he was dangerous. Their only options would be to dump him somewhere and hope he could survive on his own (and avoid being recaptured by the Autobots), which would be a horrible thing to do and likely result in his death, or…

Knockout said nothing. He looked away, but Soundwave could hear him thinking that it might be more merciful to kill him.

_ "NO," _ Soundwave said before he could stop himself. He almost never responded to unspoken thoughts; it wasn't polite, but the thought of killing Prowl was absolutely abhorrent to him.

"He's a danger to us, Soundwave," Knockout shot back. "Even locked up, any attempt to treat him requires that we interact with him, and I'm fresh out of effective sedatives. And that's assuming that the expertise needed to treat him still exists. Neither of us are psychologists. You can see what's going on in his mind, but every single thing you tell me about his mental state just confirms that he's  _ broken, _ in a way I can't repair. I can only fix physical damage, Soundwave. None of us are equipped to fix his mind, which has obviously been broken almost as long as some of us have been alive."

"No," Soundwave repeated. "Lucid periods, exist." They only lacked the data to determine how frequently they were occurring and whether the intervals in between were lengthening or shortening. If Prowl really was worsening then there was little Soundwave could argue, but— "Longer observation period: allows for better long term assessment."

Inside the cell, Prowl had begun tearing at the documents littering the floor, collecting and scratching and rescattering them as though he could vent his anger at the loss of his other treasures through old rage at a dead mech. 

Knockout closed his optics, waving his hand at… the hand. "And that?"

"Cannibalistic tendencies: may diminish with adequate, reliable fueling. Prowl: starving, almost as long as some of us have been alive."

Knockout shuddered at the reminder. He knew that Prowl was damaged, that he wasn't at fault for the dangers he posed, but his desire to heal was in conflict with his need to protect his patients, the other Decepticons.

"Fine," he said at last. "Finish the cell. And figure out a way to get him from the medbay to the brig, because we can't sedate him again. I shouldn’t need to remind you that his communications suite is active, and even though I didn't see any weapons in his transformation seams, we don't know how long until his transformations are too."

The first Soundwave would have done anyway, though at the moment he had no idea how to accomplish the second. At the very least they would have to wait until Prowl's current mood died down, and Soundwave remotely implemented what security protocols he could on the medbay communications network to monitor for Prowl trying to access them.

"And you're still not allowed to interact with him without supervision," Knockout tacked on before Soundwave could say anything.

"Supervision?" That caught him slightly off guard. Where was Knockout going with that?

"Stellar radiation. Whalesong," Prowl said clearly to the camera. They both paused, waiting to see if he would say anything else. He didn’t, but the monitoring programs detected a harsh  _ blat! _ of static from the cell. As meaningless as… as stellar radiation.

"You let your guard down around him too easily, too completely. He could kill you, Soundwave," Knockout picked their conversation back up. "And you don't seem to recognize that until he gets violent. One of these times, by the time he actually attacks you, it will be too late. So, since his treatment — and yours — were put under my purview by Megatron, I'm saying that you're not to interact with him unless someone else is present to intervene. As long as he's in the medbay cell, no going in there alone. Once he's in the brig again, someone needs to be able to watch through the force fields and step in if needed."

That… only made sense, even if it stung. Soundwave could accept the logic of it, even if he resented what it meant — things his processor shied away from contemplating too deeply. As long as Knockout didn't try to prevent him from seeing Prowl at all, or continue advocating a more permanent solution though… "Understood. Knockout: will present this to Lord Megatron?"

Finally, Knockout's optics softened, conveying compassion and sorrow. "I will."

Soundwave nodded, accepting. He suddenly felt tired; it had already been a long, strenuous day. But there was still so much he needed to do! He had to write up his report for Lord Megatron, follow up with the construction on the brig cell, and finish integrating the memory he'd gotten from Prowl… all while his processor kept automatically tagging practically everything with strange cross-tags. He desperately needed to defrag and recharge before attempting anything complex like the wiring in the brig or the pending security sweep of the medbay.

Knockout knew he didn't have the authority to actually dismiss Soundwave, but he could obviously see he was tired and agreed it had been a stressful day. He sidled up to the pile of… stuff from Prowl's subspace, eyeing the arm with distaste. "Anything specific you need me to do with these?"

"Specific plans: none," Soundwave said, double-checking as he spoke. He really did need to lie down. "Components of first cryptex, possibly still usable. Consult Shockwave." The scientist might have an interest in the arm as well, but Soundwave could think of no reason to keep it himself.

"I will." Knockout says. "Meanwhile, it is my medical suggestion that you get some defrag in."

Soundwave wasn't going to argue with that. "Crystal analysis results: desired when complete," Soundwave told Breakdown as he made to leave. "Forward to inbox."

"Will do, sir." The big mech waved as Soundwave headed out into the corridor. "Rest well."


	11. Chapter 10

Since Prowl had turned chatty — if insane — and remained reluctant to participate in his puzzle tests as long as he had fuel, Shockwave had lost interest in measuring Prowl’s exact intelligence level. He moved onto other projects, such as returning to the constant search for new energon deposits, tracking Cybertronian artifacts that had one way or another made it to Earth, and finding the Autobots. He  _ wasn’t _ interested in chemical analysis of the gunk from Prowl’s engine.

Soundwave was, and could perform a simple chemical analysis without help, but Soundwave did not have a lab.

Fortunately Shockwave’s only caveat for letting Soundwave use his equipment was that Soundwave not waste his time or break the equipment.

So Soundwave put his sample into Shockwave’s scanner, curious as to what it would uncover about the sources of Prowl’s fuel. He turned it on and waited for the computer’s results.

Some were expected: there were traces of compounds specific to Earth manufactured and purified energon. Ultra Magnus had been feeding him. Others were not unexpected: most of the traces were indicative Cybertronian produced energon, from all over the planet. Chemical traces of Iacon produced energon dominated, being notably the most recent and strongest traces.

However, one result was very surprising indeed. At some point in the very recent past, Prowl had fed on a Kaon produced fuel, specifically some of what the Decepticons had brought back from the new Rust Sea mining site and refined in Kaon just before coming to Earth. Where could he have gotten it? Was it possible that Prowl had been wandering free and… and  _ feral _ for the entire war, such that he was still free to steal from the Decepticons that recently? Had Ultra Magnus only captured him to use his tactical computer a short time ago?

Alternate hypothesis, Soundwave forced himself to think. The Autobots had stolen a shipment of that energon to fuel the  _ Ark. _ It was much more likely that Ultra Magnus had fed his captive from that stolen fuel than to speculate that Prowl had managed to roam free for the entire war.

Curiosity about the engine gunk satisfied, Soundwave turned his attention to the report Breakdown had made about the composition of the energon crystal found in Prowl’s subspace. Short of Prowl becoming lucid enough to answer questions himself, this was the only evidence they had of where Prowl had found his energon that was guaranteed to be before Ultra Magnus had captured him. 

The report was inconclusive. It  _ was _ a raw energon crystal. It had come from Cybertron, that too was certain. But that was about as much as the computer’s analysis had been able to tell. It couldn’t narrow it down to originating from a single mine. It had trace elements unique to the Praxus area, but the proportions of non-trace elements were identical to crystals coming from mines around Polyhex, with additional minerals more characteristic of Crystal City. It was very puzzling. Had this crystal come from the wilderness? 

Had Prowl really, truly been  _ feral? _

Cliffjumper thought so, but the idea was almost ludicrous. Someone had built him. His spark had to have been placed in that frame in Praxus and integrated with the tac-comp. How could such a mech have escaped into the wilderness? Why? How had he survived when all fuel could be potentially contaminated with VAC?

Prowl’s survival protocols must be set to avoid hoarding unless he had an air tight place to store his energon, Soundwave concluded, recalling how he’d shown no evidence of hoarding behavior until his subspace was online. And his self repair was set to get his subspace — the only safe place a true feral might have access to — online before his transformations. It felt unnatural to Soundwave to prioritize storage over mobility and transformations. Transformation from their bipedal forms to their vehicle forms was fundamental to their species! But how useful was the ability to transform into a basic groundcar compared to uncontaminated energon in the wilderness? 

_ If _ Prowl were truly feral, and had survived in the wilderness of Cybertron for a significant amount of time, then evidence suggested that  _ he _ thought transformation less useful than subspace.

The conclusion was disturbing and Soundwave did not want to contemplate it. It had been easy to dismiss Cliffjumper’s experience with a feral mech when he’d believed Prowl’s feral behavior had to have a different source. He didn’t want to think Prowl would inevitably share that mech’s fate. Cliffjumper might have been able to release his feral back into Cybertron’s wilderness, but Prowl couldn’t be released into Earth’s. There was no unclaimed energon to scavenge, no mechanimals to hunt; his only options would be to steal from the Autobots’ and Decepticons’ mines, or return to cannibalism. Megatron would allow Knockout to have Prowl mercifully put down before entertaining that option. 

Prowl could recover; Soundwave had to believe that.

Locking that thought in his mind, Soundwave redoubled his efforts on the new cell in the brig — literally working double time on it along with the others involved in the project. Knockout had been reluctant to hand over the stims so he could forego recharge, but he’d given in in the end. They were running out of time. They needed to get Prowl out of the medbay.

Exactly  _ how  _ they were going to get him out of the medbay posed a rather interesting challenge, however.

“We’re not moving him the same way we did last time,” Knockout informed Soundwave in a tone that brooked no argument when he announced the cell had finally been completed. “I don’t have any more sedatives, and even if I did, he’d maul us before we could get one plugged in.”

Which meant they needed to get Prowl back to the brig without sedating or strapping him down to a gurney (since it was unlikely he’d submit to that no matter what Soundwave promised to “sacrifice”). A brief flight of fancy had him considering asking  _ Prowl _ for a plan; it would be information and thus possibly subject to Prowl’s compulsion, if Soundwave found something to “sacrifice” that was worth the exchange. He dismissed the thought with a mental chuckle. Even if Prowl were compelled to answer, to come up with a plan for them, it was unlikely he would comply with it if he knew what they were doing. Maybe Soundwave could ask under what circumstances Prowl would  _ willingly _ return to the brig…

He shook his head. Ridiculous. Prowl was insane. Even if he was willing to return to the brig, Megatron would never authorize any plan that left Prowl free to run around the ship unrestrained in case he changed his (capricious and volatile) mind. Nevertheless Soundwave could not quite shake the idea that Prowl  _ could _ be bargained with, if only they found the right things to offer.

Perhaps Soundwave could experiment with doing so once he was back in the brig.

He considered closing off the hallways between the medbay and the brig cell and baiting the trail with energon, like a trail of breadcrumbs in many Earth stories, but it was too risky. The energon bait probably would entice Prowl to go straight from one cell to the other with few problems, but if for some reason he  _ didn’t _ the consequences could be disastrous. It was too much like letting him run free, with all the associated dangers.

But a trail wasn’t the only thing they could bait with energon… 

“Proposal.” Soundwave pulled up a skeletal schematic of the medbay on his face mask to illustrate his idea. The outline of a cage drew itself just outside Prowl’s cell with the open side towards the door. A short animation showed Soundwave placing energon inside before opening the door and waiting for Prowl to come out after the energon. Once he was inside, the cage shut, trapping him and allowing the animated Soundwave to carry the cage away.

“Hmm.” Knockout watched with interest. “That might actually work.” There was definite relief in his thoughts that Soundwave had come up with something, since he’d so far had no ideas about how to safely relocate the crazy mech. “Assuming he goes for the energon.”

“Soundwave: will place regular ration there.” The tac-comp might assess the setup and correctly return that it was a trap, but Prowl’s fuel-hunger had proven to overpower higher thought processes in the past. Hopefully it would only take one or two regular rations placed in the cage for that to happen; Soundwave didn’t want to starve Prowl so they could move him. 

“And if it doesn’t work?”

The animated Soundwave reappeared next to Prowl’s cell holding a gun. Knockout looked startled at first, but then chuckled when the weapon fired a net that tangled the wild Praxan’s limbs to prevent him from doing (much) damage while Soundwave moved him into the cage. 

“Alright, you’ve got a contingency plan. Do you have the, erm,” Knockout mimed a box in front of him, thinking the word  _ cage  _ rather than saying it as a precaution. Prowl was on the other side of the medbay, but… On the whole, the medic would be  _ much  _ more comfortable when he was all the way across the ship, rather than just across the room.

“Soundwave: having it brought.” 

A short time later, Thundercracker arrived with the cage. “Where do you want this, sir?” he asked, gesturing to the wheeled cart it was resting on. Soundwave simply pointed to the open space on the wall next to the cell door, where the seeker promptly parked it.

Knockout summoned Breakdown away from his work while Soundwave dismissed Thundercracker. They could handle the rest.

The cage Soundwave had requested was one with a sliding side rather than a door, and when the side was propped up so the cage was open, it was tall enough to fully block the cell door floor to ceiling. An important consideration, since it would otherwise have been possible (even likely) that Prowl would just jump on top of the cage rather than crawling into it. It also meant that trapping him inside would be a simple matter of dropping that side back down and locking it so he couldn’t lift it back up from the inside. The only difficult part of the transfer would be wheeling it into place quickly once they swung the cell door out of the way — and waiting for Prowl to take the bait.

Soundwave checked the security camera before opening the door. This time Knockout and Soundwave kept the cell door from being pushed open, while Breakdown handled the cage. Prowl was hiding under the slab, thinking about energon. He was hungry.

Of course he noticed when the door opened. He squirmed out, expecting to see…  _ not _ a couple of cubes buried in a deep hole. 

Hunger drove Prowl to investigate; caution kept him from going right in. The tactical computer recognized it as a trap and Prowl skittered away with a snarl.

“Not going for it?” Knockout guessed. 

Soundwave silently shook his head. Not yet he wasn’t, though it was too soon to tell what he’d do as he got hungrier. But they couldn’t all stand around waiting for him to give in and go for the energon. Nodding to Breakdown to lock the wheels of the cart, Soundwave indicated to both of them that they should weight both the cage and the door where they were so they could be left alone. The cage door was already rigged to close behind Prowl when he went inside.

The noise attracted Prowl’s attention and he circled back to the trap and the — fresh, bright — energon within. Sooo… bright, Soundwave had to literally shake himself free of the thought. 

Prowl shook himself free of the temptation as well, crawling away and squirming back into his hiding spot under the medical slab.

“Desire: strong,” Soundwave reported, hoping that meant Prowl wouldn’t be able to hold out too long. He stayed near the cell, waiting, while Knockout and Breakdown returned to work.

Prowl hid under the slab, restlessly rearranging the scraps he’d acquired for his nest, trying to ignore the cubes of energon simply sitting there.

Hunger and the expectation of being fed drew him out again. He crept to the entrance of the cage…

The tactical computer sent a harsh warning to Prowl’s other thoughts and he scampered away again. Trap!

Trap like… Soundwave saw an image: a pedestal of smooth panels of metal, lying flat along the ground. In the center a mech struggled, hands bound behind his back, chained by spike driven through his leg, energon drip… drip… dripping from the wound, wasted…The waste was too much for Soundwave, no  _ Prowl! _ These were  _ Prowl’s _ thoughts… the wasted energon, the scent and taste of it was too much a temptation and it brought him close. Close enough to wrap killing claws around the struggling mech’s leg, to lick the dripping wound…

Soundwave jerked, pulling free of the… memory?… just as the panels closed in around the memory-Prowl, sending present-Prowl skittering away again with a screech. Soundwave could almost hear Ultra Magnus’ gloating… he could  _ definitely  _ feel Knockout’s curiosity, which he waved off with an all-clear signal. He was fine. More than fine; if that was indeed how Ultra Magnus had captured Prowl, then this would work. Given enough time, this would work.

Then they would be able to continue looking after Prowl in a much more suitable environment.

Time, though, was the key. Prowl would eventually give into the temptation of the fuel inside the trap, but with that memory of being caught this way once before, it would take a lot of time to overcome his caution. Prowl hadn’t suspected the trap before; he knew about it now.

Waiting was nerve wracking. 

Eventually the memory faded, the fear of being captured once before retreated, enough for hunger to drive Prowl to investigate the trap again.

Claws scored the edge of the cage as Prowl flexed them in frustration, caught between the temptation of the energon within the dark, safe-looking hole, and the certainty that going after it was a bad idea. He hissed, and retreated again, this time only a few feet.

The next time he came forward, he dug his claws into the gap between the cage and the door, gleefully triumphant when he got his rending claws through to get a grip. Soundwave had only a split-second’s telepathic warning before Prowl threw his weight against the door, moving both it and the cage a few feet, despite the weights they had left there. There was prey past the nasty trap! He just needed to get to it!

Soundwave was already moving to brace the door again and push it back into place, and the noise had alerted the others. Breakdown was there to realign the cage just in time for Prowl’s second attempt to push it out of the way, and the fact that neither the cage nor the door yielded a second time prompted a howl from the frustrated Praxan.

“Should’ve known he’d find a way to make even more trouble,” Knockout grumbled. “Clearly we need to secure that better.” He didn’t suggest leaving a mech on guard; he assumed that Soundwave already intended to do just that, and they really needed  _ two  _ mechs, if that was how Prowl was going to try to break out.

Denied his easy escape, and the prey he could hear/scent/taste beyond, Prowl went back to his slab with a hiss. He rearranged his meager nest again. 

Briefly Prowl considered the energon he had stashed away in his subspace, but his psyche and survival protocols both rebelled at using that energon, when there were two… sweet… bright… cubes just a short distance away, free for the taking…

With another hiss, he crawled out of the hidden shadow of the medical slab to perch on top of it, to consider how to get the fuel without being trapped in the cage. Scenario after scenario, dozens of simulations, started and concluded too fast for Soundwave to follow. 

Prowl leapt off the slab and bounded awkwardly on all fours to the cage, leaping up to bang himself against the door of the cage, blocking the opening above it. He leapt up and did it again. That was going to be a problem; the metal was hinged so it wouldn’t bend back easily, but Prowl was heavy enough that if he kept that up, eventually he would warp the cage.

Of course, anyone standing on the cage to brace it would be putting themselves (and in particular, their hands) within striking range.

Soundwave couldn’t ask either Knockout or Breakdown to risk themselves like that. He didn’t even mention it; he simply climbed up there himself to brace. He kept his hands as far away from the edges of the solid door as he could.

“What are—?”

Prowl’s weight hit him with a strut-rattling  _ thud, _ interrupting Knockout mid-sentence. The medic fell silent, Prowl having answered his question for him.

Prowl hit the door like that two more times, before breaking off his attack on the panel with a howl of frustration. On his surveillance-scape, Soundwave could see him circling, pacing from the entrance of the cage back to his hiding place. He did not like this, he did not like this at all, the hoofsteps of the Unicorn take her from the first page to the last… this isn’t a bloody fix-it fic!… then Ultra Magnus’ laugh as the trap closed—

Soundwave shook himself free of the thoughts again.

Prowl’s claws dug into the bare gap between the cage and the door once more, near Soundwave’s leg… sooo close! Hear/smell/taste the fuel, the blood of the gods!  _ Right. There. _

Patiently, Soundwave waited, keeping his foot far enough away from Prowl’s claws to foil his intentions. Whatever the mech’s deranged processor thought, he was not food. The food was in the cage, all for Prowl — as soon as he gave in and went for it. Prowl hissed as he retreated from that effort. 

This time, Prowl settled. He sat just outside the cage and stared at the cubes within, as though willing them to come out of the trap.

“You staying up there?” Knockout asked, waving vaguely at the top of the cage where Soundwave was perched (kind of like Prowl, his thoughts said).

“Affirmative.” Prowl knew he was up there, and would know if he came down. That would just encourage him to start jumping again. 

Prowl continued to think primarily of the energon in the cubes (and in the prey right beyond the trap) and of following in some doomed creature’s footsteps, repeating his own steps into the trap that caught him the first time…

Slowly the energon pushed out all this other thoughts and he…  _ took the first step, following the Unicorn into regret… _ He crept toward the cage. One crawled step, then another. 

Then stopped, as the memory of a dying Decepticon laid as bait in another trap overwhelmed him (and almost Soundwave) again. He sat on the ground again, staring at the cubes.

Who had that poor mech been? Soundwave couldn’t help but wonder. Who had Prowl fed on in Ultra Magnus’ trap? The thoughts/memories were so energon-driven that other details blurred in and out of focus. They would probably never know.

Soundwave was so busy wondering that he missed Prowl moving two, maybe three, steps closer to the entrance. Soooo… close… 

Fuel hunger and corrupt code finally drove him into the cage.

Even knowing it was coming, the door of the cage falling shut startled Soundwave. The noise and vibration of it carried up into his frame through the metal under his feet and he crouched low, fighting to keep the visions of the trap slamming closed around him, the bleeding Decepticon at his feet and Ultra Magnus laughing from overwhelming his processor as Prowl shrieked and howled with an an unnatural fury beneath him. He wasn’t there in that faraway place, there was no cage around him… just the walls of the cave, shaking with the aftershocks of a collapse that was growing steadily nearer. The tunnel was collapsing! He was going to be buried, trapped, pinned, unable to move — unable to move  _ unabletomove— _

“—wave? Soundwave!” Knockout’s sharp voice cut through the delusion, snapping him out of the panic he’d been pulled into. 

“Flashback,” he said quickly to let the medic know what had happened. He knew better than to let himself fall prey to those, had been guarding against the memory of Ultra Magnus, but the  _ second  _ flashback had caught him off guard. “Prowl: deeply traumatized by small enclosures.”

Prowl threw himself at the side of the cage, howling again. Knockout jumped as the cage rattled with the force of it. He had no liking of Prowl as an individual, and was unforgiving of his continued cannibalistic bent, but he disliked being witness to a sentient’s suffering. “Name a surviving Praxan — crazy or not — who isn’t,” he said harshly to hide his concern — from himself more than from Soundwave. “Maybe we should get him back to the brig as soon as possible.”

“Agreed.” The sooner they could let Prowl back out of the box, the better it would be for everyone’s nerve-circuits. “Soundwave: clearing hallway,” he announced as he climbed down. No need to subject anyone unnecessarily to Prowl’s yells. “Breakdown: transport cage.”

Prowl’s strut-chilling howl drowned out Breakdown’s confirmation.

It wound up taking both Breakdown and Soundwave’s strength to steer the cage down the hallway. Prowl’s struggles continually pushed it off course. The walk felt like it took forever, though there were no more consuming flashback incidents for Soundwave. His psychic defenses were firmly in place and he wasn’t letting them down until Prowl was free (relatively speaking) in the brig.

When they finally arrived, Knockout went over to the control console and deactivated the forcefield so they could push the cage inside. Soundwave signalled to Breakdown to turn the cart so the door faced out into the first ‘room’ of the new cell and set the parking brake before climbing up on top of the cage once more.

“Breakdown: stand back. Knockout: prepare to activate forcefield.” Prowl would almost certainly go for him once the cage was opened, and Soundwave planned to throw himself back off the box as soon as he’d raised the door. 

Breakdown backed up, leaving the howling cage with Soundwave with some relief. He didn’t like the sounds the mech was making, like he wasn’t a mech at all, but some sort of… supernatural creature. Knockout held up a hand for Soundwave to wait, then flashed an all-clear. He was ready to move when Soundwave did, to bring the forcefield up back up once he was clear of it before Prowl was able to follow.

Without hesitation, Soundwave grabbed the mechanism to lift the door on the cage and  _ pulled. _

Prowl was rushing the door before it was even fully open, twisting to squirm out the crack. Hissing and snarling he crawl-lunged for the nearest  _ enemy-prey.  _ Soundwave pried the door open a little more to make sure Prowl wouldn’t be trapped in the cage, then leapt as hard and fast as he could out of the cell. 

Almost too fast to believe, Prowl’s claws still scraped Soundwave’s paint before the forcefield interposed itself between them.

Prowl didn’t bother scraping and clawing at the energy field. He immediately darted back into the cage to hide. Now that it wasn’t trapping him, suddenly it was desirable rather than detestable.

Soundwave could feel Knockout and Breakdown’s relief at having Prowl safely — and  _ quietly  _ — contained. He was rather relieved himself, and no longer having the pressure of Prowl’s panic against his mind was wonderful. The faint scratches Prowl had left on his plating hurt less than the echoes of that flashback.

“Let’s get those scratches looked at,” Knockout said tiredly. More than anything, he was relieved that Prowl was no longer under his purview. Soundwave still was though, and those scratches needed to be fixed.

Having already spent longer than he’d planned moving Prowl, Soundwave didn’t protest. He checked the console to ensure everything was set properly and then followed the doctor and his assistant without protest, leaving Prowl to get familiar with his new environment… and drink his rations.

.

.

.

It didn’t take long for Prowl to explore both of his new ‘rooms’. Soundwave checked in using the cameras while he worked on other tasks, pleased that their coverage was proving to be good. Prowl very quickly maneuvered the cage into a corner of the exterior interaction/play room and created a blind spot behind and in it, but other than that Soundwave was able to keep an optic on his activities. 

The scratch-resistant outer layer of the walls were holding up well. Prowl hadn’t spent much time clawing at them, which could have just been because he wasn’t in a clawing mood, but there were no long gouges this time to indicate where he’d tried it. 

Despite going through so much trouble to make a camera blind spot and hiding spot in the playroom part of the new cell, he returned to the scraps he’d made into his nest before being moved to the medbay to settle for the night. More scraps — shredded cubes and torn blanket — joined the old nest from his subspace. Prowl slept there.

Until the next day, when Soundwave woke up to find Prowl, and his entire nest, gone. After a moment of panic, he reviewed the night’s camera logs and with relief watched Prowl move the whole thing behind the cage trap, now pushed at a forty five degree angle into one of the corners to make a Praxan-sized hole between it and the walls. It had also been tipped on its side so that it no longer moved on its wheels, and the wheels themselves had been torn out to add to the scraps that made up Prowl’s nest. The impromptu housekeeping put his sleeping area in the room Soundwave had intended to interact with him in, but fortunately it wouldn’t be too difficult to swap them. What few enrichment items were already in place he would leave Prowl to move where he wished, and simply bring new things and energon to the original half of his cell.

Per his orders not to spend time with Prowl unsupervised — and, due to the completely non-wireless nature of the controls, the impossibility of feeding him alone — Soundwave was accompanied by Knockout when it was time for Prowl’s next cube.

Prowl was in his newly chosen nest site when Soundwave and Knockout entered the brig. Soundwave walked up to the forcefield so he could see him where the cameras could not. He was stuffed awkwardly into his own nest. Soundwave winced; that couldn’t be comfortable. Yet Prowl only twitched his foot, sticking almost straight up and only curling so that the limb didn’t leave the safety of the hollow. Soundwave heard a soft scraping sound: Prowl, lightly scraping his claws against one of the surfaces inside his nest.

Once again he was reminded of Ravage, looking at Prowl like that. She had had a talent for finding the most uncomfortable places to sleep, always claiming they were perfectly cozy.

Putting the memory aside, Soundwave focused on the mech in front of him. He wasn’t looking at Soundwave, and while fuel was, as always, at the foreground of his thoughts, his usual awareness that someone would be bringing energon seemed to be lacking. Had moving him disrupted his expectations of the routine?

Soundwave walked over to the side of the joined cell that was unoccupied and waited for Knockout to open a window to pass the cube through.

Opening the forcefield woke the sleeping feral. Prowl squirmed out of his nest to investigate this new, strange happening. His thoughts… If Soundwave didn’t have the memories of the past week to draw on, he would once again think Prowl potentially unintelligent. His desire to investigate were only the thoughts of an animal investigating a new potential source of food or threat.

Not interested in being either, Soundwave slid the cube into the cell and backed away to observe. Prowl was never  _ safe,  _ but when he was like this, more animalistic than bizarre and cryptic, biting seemed much more likely than talking or touching.

Recognizing the glowing cube as fuel, Prowl pounced on it. He batted at it, knocking it on its side, then again sending it bouncing, like a toy. Then he stopped and watched it. Only after a breem of observation where the cube didn’t do anything on its own did Prowl snatch it up and bite through the thin polymer to drink the fuel.

His thoughts didn’t acknowledge Soundwave standing just outside the cell, and Soundwave didn’t draw attention to himself. Perhaps next time Prowl would be waiting for him.

Finishing the fuel, Prowl shredded the cube a bit, as though testing how well it would shred. Then he paused, suddenly looking directly at Soundwave’s facemask. “Mathematics is the only science where one never knows what one is talking about nor whether what is said is true.” Prowl cackled and scampered back to his hidden nest. 

Frozen, Soundwave was shaken from his trance by the sound of Prowl shredding his new cube in earnest.

“Not sticking around this time?” Knockout asked when Soundwave joined him at the controls.

“No. Soundwave: will attempt interaction later. Current mood, not conducive.” Perhaps next time he would bring an actual toy, a soft foam ball or something. It would provide Prowl with more nest material, if nothing else. And there was always the third cryptex, which Shockwave had completed before losing interest.

Task of feeding Prowl over for the moment, Soundwave and Knockout left the brig to attend their other duties.

.

.

.

Prowl had moved things around in his cell again when Soundwave returned with another ration that evening. A structure made of wood that had been included to attempt to give Prowl a place to satisfy his urge to scratch without damaging the walls had been moved over to the nest corner, partially blocking the entrance of the cage. Another, meant for climbing, had been moved on top of the cage, blocking Soundwave’s view into the nest from above. Prowl was hanging upside down from one of the platforms on the climbing structure, carving crude, broken, almost illegible glyphs into it, proclaiming this to be the territory of a vicious predator and for other predators to stay away.

“Lovely,” Knockout drawled, sending a cascade of  _ disturbing similarities _ tags through Soundwave’s processor. In response, Soundwave pulled up an image of a very typical human sign to display on his mask: BEWARE OF DOG, which startled a laugh from the medic. “I suppose… Cybertronian wildlife doesn’t do it, that I know of, but I suppose we can draw an analogy between Prowl’s behavior now and some territorial Earth animals.” He sent several files to Soundwave’s inbox.

Scratching, to leave behind marks and scents, to drive away rivals and predators was common in certain kinds of Earth animals: bears, dogs, and larger members of the weasel family all practiced it. Cats did as well, Soundwave knew, and the absence of any mentions of them in Knockout’s research was conspicuous. He almost pulled up the less well known but perfectly extant BEWARE OF CAT version of the sign to call the medic out on it, but then decided to let it go. He was more interested in spending time with Prowl than arguing with Knockout.

“Soundwave: plan to interact,” he said, indicating that this time Knockout should let him into the cell. Putting up a partial field between the two conjoined rooms would allow Soundwave to actually hand things to Prowl; that barrier could then be removed to allow full contact, or re-engaged if necessary to separate them, while keeping Prowl safely contained. The only one at any risk of damage would be Soundwave, and it was a risk he was willing to take.

Prowl noticed the forcefield going up. His doors twitched and he looked at the new barrier. Though his space to roam had been cut in half, he didn’t seem to mind. The tactical computer noted this development and offered several plans to prevent the field’s activation in the future, including both sitting right on the barrier between the two cells, physically blocking the field, moving one of the play structures onto it to block it, and ripping out the emitters while they were off. Prowl decided to do nothing with those plans for the moment. Not “nil action” but filing the plans away for further consideration later.

One advantage of the forcefield blocking Prowl from space that was usually within his ‘territory’ was that Soundwave didn’t sense the lack of acknowledgement of a world outside his immediate space. He knew that space existed, knew he was only blocked from it, and as such took notes of events in that space as he did in the cell with him. Thus Soundwave knew he was being watched, watched by something that hadn’t decided yet if he was a threat or prey quite yet, as he stepped into the cell and Knockout closed up the forcefield over the entry behind him.

There was still no recognition of Soundwave as an individual, but no fear or plans to attack yet; the forcefield still blocked them both.

Prowl blinked curiously as corrupt code suggested another possibility to his broken mind. “Have you come to ask a question?”

“Soundwave: came to deliver energon.” He would probably wind up wanting to ask a question, if not several, knowing how things usually went with Prowl, but right now his goal was simple. Soundwave stepped up to the barrier to pass the cube through one of the small openings.

Prowl’s mind went blank. He leapt down from the climbing structure and crawled over to the barrier, optics on the cube. “Blood for the blood god.”

Once he was closer, Soundwave dropped the cube rather than letting Prowl take it from his hand. There was taking risks, and then there was being stupid. The energon line in his wrist was not what Prowl was supposed to be feeding on. Prowl snatched the cube and examined it, licking it even, then retreated back to the cage. He squirmed past the scratching structure blocking the entrance and disappeared inside.

He peeked out a moment later, chevron points glinting dully in the shadow. 

Soundwave settled where he was next to the barrier and pulled the foam ball he’d brought out of his subspace. He started bouncing it against the field, mimicking what Prowl had done so many times before.

That caught his attention.  _ Interest _ flickered through Prowl’s mind. He squirmed out of the cage to watch.

A few more bounces against the field, then Soundwave changed the angle of his toss so the ball arced through the hole through it to land at Prowl’s feet. Prowl  _ pounced _ on it without even a flicker of thought, predatory instincts taking over. Claws sank deep into the foam and Prowl’s fangs tore off a chunk.

He spat it out just as quickly. “Blech.”

“Ball, not food,” Soundwave said, though Prowl was obviously aware of that fact now. “Purpose: activity.”

Prowl ignored the suggestion and started ripping into the foam in earnest. Maybe there was fuel inside?

There wasn’t, but shredding the ball was still doing something with it (and really was what Soundwave had expected he would do with it). He pulled another out and hid it in his hand, waiting for Prowl to finish. 

The ball was in itty bitty pieces by the time Prowl finished and subspaced the whole pile. Wondering if the second would fare the same as the first, Soundwave bounced the intact ball against the field a couple of times before lobbing it gently at Prowl. This time Prowl jumped up to catch it midair. 

Knockout winced as Prowl’s claws sank into the foam again. 

He didn’t bite it again though. He examined it, as though trying to figure out the purpose of it. He didn’t think it had energon in it again. Why catch something with no fuel? “Explosives? Someone please say Explosives?” He subspaced it, with only the deep gouges of his claws.

“Not explosives,” Soundwave answered, pulling out a third, final, foam ball. This one he threw with less force, causing it to bounce on the floor on Prowl’s side of the cell before rolling to him. This time the ball tapped lightly against Prowl’s foot while he tracked the movement (the tactical computer doing so in excruciating detail).

Experimentally Prowl hit it, sending a new wave of angle and velocity calculations through his shattered thoughts.

“Hit back?” Soundwave suggested. “Soundwave: will throw again.”

Prowl caught the ball in his hands, tapping his claws against it. He tilted his head at Soundwave, considering.

“Mine,” he declared as he subspaced the ball and fled back to the triangular hole against the corner of the room that was his nest. A moment later Soundwave heard the sounds of Prowl starting to shred the foam.

Soundwave saw the disappointment on Knockout’s face as he stood and walked back to the solid forcefield wall, waiting to be let out, but he wasn’t discouraged. He hadn’t expected Prowl to grasp the cooperative aspects of the activity right away; not when the mech viewed others as nothing more than sources of fuel when he acknowledged them at all. This was only a first attempt at a first step, to help Prowl’s processor branch out to seeing others in new, more constructive ways.

.

.

.

Prowl had moved things again next time Soundwave and Knockout went down to feed him: Now the scratching structure was straddling the doorway between the two cells. Prowl was running back and forth, chasing a claw-gouged but otherwise intact foam ball.

“That’s going to be a problem,” Knockout commented, looking at the new setup. “The field will generate around the structure to an extent, but there are going to be a few large gaps.”

“Gaps: large enough to fit through?”

“Hard to say.” Knockout wasn’t sure how big the gaps would be, nor, more importantly, what size gap Prowl could manage to force himself through. “You should be able to push it out of the way of the forcefield before he can climb through, however.”

As long as Prowl wasn’t in the way when the barrier sprang up, which would require timing around his running to trap him on the right side.

Soundwave walked over to the same side he’d entered before and waited for Knockout to activate the interior wall. 

Knockout’s reactions were very good, but Prowl changed directions suddenly, diving back into the cell the medic was trying to cut him off from at the last second. He somersaulted around and cackled, flaring his doorwings in a threat display at the forcefield.

“Why you little—!” #DisturbingSimilarities-Knockout flashed through Soundwave’s processor as Knockout cursed. It still amazed him how quickly the mech could move. How had he even known  _ to  _ move? The forcefield made next to no sound coming up, and would have only given him a nanoklik to adjust his stride.

“It is only your own ignorance which appears to you as insanity,” Prowl cackled.

Knockout had more derogatory comments in response to that, but he kept them (mostly) under his breath. “What do you want to do?” He gestured at the separated cells. “I could open the other side for you instead.”

“No.” Part of the point of the two rooms was for Prowl to have a space that was  _ his,  _ one that Soundwave didn’t interfere with. Showing Prowl that he would only enter the room without his nest was important. “Lower inner barrier.” Knockout did so.

With a warble of victory, Prowl scrambled over the scratching structure and pounced on the ball, batting it back to the empty side to pounce on again. Rather than play games seeing if they could catch him on the right side, Soundwave signalled Knockout to just open the exterior field enough to pass the cube through.

The cube bouncing to the ground caught Prowl’s attention and he changed his velocity to pounce on it, slamming himself into the forcefield and breaking the cube open. With a growl, he started licking the fuel off the ground and himself without shame.

“At least he’s not letting it go to waste,” was Knockout’s last remark as they left him to it.

Despite how the visit had gone, Soundwave considered it a good sign. He had wanted Prowl to learn how to play. He still needed to get the hang of playing with other people, but seeing Prowl active and engaged in his environment instead of brooding or sulking was very positive.

.

.

.

While Knockout was Soundwave’s usual chaperone — something the medic himself insisted on — he wasn’t always available when Soundwave needed to visit the brig. He wouldn’t let Breakdown substitute for him, claiming he wasn’t comfortable with the forcefield controls (Soundwave knew it was really Prowl he wasn’t comfortable with, but didn’t say anything about it), but he didn’t have a problem with anyone else doing the job. Soundwave certainly didn’t want to impose on Lord Megatron or Starscream, who were both far too busy to interrupt for something so minor, but the other Decepticons occasionally found themselves commandeered for the task.

Except for Skywarp, who had standing orders to Stay Away from the brig and its unusual inhabitant.

Tonight was one such evening when Knockout had to beg off, and Soundwave had decided to try something he’d thought of a while ago: bringing Cliffjumper to visit Prowl to see how the Praxan reacted. 

According to the duty roster, Cliffjumper was off duty during Prowl’s evening feeding. There weren’t many places that a former Autobot could go on his off-time. Even fewer that weren’t on Soundwave’s surveillance-scape. As such, Soundwave found him easily, brooding on a support beam above the launch deck. 

Sending Laserbeak on ahead of him, Soundwave started off for his chosen perch. His symbiote arrived well before he did, setting down lightly beside Cliffjumper with an inquisitive flick of her wings.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Cliffjumper said to the symbiote. She trilled at him playfully, unperturbed that he didn’t understand her. Lifting back up into the air, she darted toward the door Soundwave was heading for, back to Cliffjumper, then back toward the door.

With a resigned sigh, Cliffjumper pushed himself off the beam and dropped down to the ground. It was quite the display of agility for a mech not optimized for either climbing or flight. He looked at Soundwave. “Reporting as ordered.”

“Cliffjumper: not in trouble,” Soundwave told him. Laserbeak beeped once more before pinwheeling away to play in the large open space. “Soundwave: requires assistance with task.”

“Of course, sir. Lead the way.”

Soundwave turned and began walking back immediately, but he wasn’t going to leave their destination a surprise. “Manual brig controls,” he said, noting the slight catch in Cliffjumper’s steps. “Delivering rations: requires two.”

Cliffjumper steeled himself, as though walking into an interrogation — an impression heightened by the conscious activation of his psychic countermeasures, which were part of his interrogation resistance protocols. “As ordered, sir.” Soundwave did not need telepathy to realize he was not happy about his current assignment. Not that he’d really expected him to be.

Intending to keep the visit brief for Cliffjumper’s sake, Soundwave didn’t plan on trying to interact with Prowl beyond giving him his cube. Unfortunately, it was much more likely that Prowl would notice Cliffjumper if he was the one actually holding it. 

Somehow he figured Cliffjumper would like that even less.

He checked the cameras in the joined cell to see what Prowl was doing before they arrived. He was on the scratching structure, sharpening his claws. It looked like he’d finally shredded his final ball: there were pieces of colored foam strewn across the floor of the cell.

Soundwave stepped toward the console this time when they reached the brig, rather than following his usual pattern of heading over to the cell. He retrieved the ration cube and turned to present it to Cliffjumper. He made a face as he took it.

“Fine, let’s just do this.” The former Autobot stepped over to the forcefield.

“I don’t know where he is,” Prowl interrupted Soundwave’s manipulation of the controls. He almost oozed off the scratching structure to crouch in front of the forcefield and speak directly to Cliffjumper. “Nor are you the one who may ask the question. You’re too late; that privilege was taken by another. Not that it matters. You won’t find him until season three — the battle between gods is not yet suitably epic.”

“What do you know about the gods?” Cliffjumper asked, rattled.

Prowl snarled. “Be thankful you do not have a sacrifice of great enough value for me to answer that.”

Given the answer Prowl had given him over their hardline connection, the one he still could barely make heads or tails of and couldn’t explain to anyone in words any more coherent than Prowl’s, Soundwave felt Cliffjumper should probably be thankful too. He couldn’t tell whether he was or not though; his interrogation resistance protocols were still actively blocking his telepathy, and Prowl was running countermeasures again as well.

“I don’t want anything of yours,” Cliffjumper snapped back. “Let’s get this over with.”

Soundwave went ahead and opened the forcefield enough for Cliffjumper to slide the cube through — exactly large enough, so there was no chance of Prowl grabbing him as long as he set the cube in the hole and pulled his hand back as soon as he pushed it through. 

Prowl snatched the cube and scrambled into his nest.

“Good riddance,” Cliffjumper muttered, turning and walking quickly away.

As Cliffjumper was exiting the brig, Prowl called out, “Wielded by Prima, one of the original thirteen Transformers at the dawn of time,” bringing the former Autobot to a halt. “It was a weapon unlike any other. It could snuff out stars and crumble the stuff of planets to dust. Many legends swirl around the blade, from its origin to its disappearance into the annals of history, but somewhere between fiction and fact, it waits to be discovered again by one worthy of its power…” Prowl cackled as Cliffjumper stormed out.

He was still countering Soundwave’s telepathy, but he still seemed to be taking a sort of vicious glee in unsettling the former Autobot. “Prowl, not being nice,” Soundwave observed, leaving the locked controls to stand by the solid forcefield.

The only answer, if it could be considered one, Prowl made was the sound of him ripping his cube into shreds.

It both was and wasn't what Soundwave had hoped for. With both mechs blocking him, he hadn't been able to hear what he really wanted — namely, Prowl's reaction to Cliffjumper and how much of the corrupt code his presence triggered — but he had confirmation that Prowl was talkative and antagonistic towards Cliff. Almost like he had a personal dislike of him, similar to the not-quite affinity he seemed to have for Soundwave.

He left the brig, scanning the hall to see if Cliffjumper had stayed nearby awaiting a formal dismissal, or if he’d taken the completion of the task he’d been commandeered for as permission to bolt.

Cliffjumper was in the hall, kicking the far wall.

“Cliffjumper: understood riddles?” Soundwave asked, approaching cautiously. 

“No,” he snapped, kicking the wall again.

“Then…” Prowl had definitely upset him. If it wasn’t the riddles, then what? “Source of anger?” 

“It’s,” Cliffjumper kicked the wall again, then sagged against it. His psychic countermeasures dropped; he did not have the sort of mind who could sustain them for very long if he didn’t feel like he was immediately under attack. “His final… taunts. If he wasn’t quoting the Covenant of Primus…” He kicked the wall again, this time more lightly.

“Covenant of Primus?” No wonder it had sounded like only a riddle to Soundwave. Between that piece of information and Cliffjumper’s agitated processor silently protesting Prowl once again knowing something he  _ should not know,  _ he could understand Cliffjumper’s reaction. “Prowl, knows many things he should not.”

The displaced Autobot only shrugged. “It’s creepy is what it is, like everything else in this Primus-damned timeline.”

Soundwave supposed he could have taken offense at that, but Cliffjumper hadn’t meant it as an insult. Not a personal one, anyway. And he couldn’t blame the mech for finding this world creepy, he supposed, when what he’d glimpsed from Prowl had been so very unsettling to him.

Would Cliffjumper understand? Or would it just creep him out more to hear, if Soundwave could even find a way to express it?

“Are we done here, sir?” Cliffjumper was impatient to go. He was torn as to whether he was going to return to the brooding spot on the Seekers’ launch bay or if he was going to to go vent his confusion on a training simulation. Either way, he had no interest in standing around listening to Soundwave struggle with words that weren’t his to describe something that defied being put into words in the first place.

Soundwave didn’t want to force him into anything else he didn’t want to do. “Done,” he said, the flat monotone of the recording hiding the loneliness he felt. “Cliffjumper: dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, already heading down the hall, intending to go to the training room.

Soundwave watched him go, resisting the urge to turn back around and return to the brig. Prowl was hiding in his nest; he wouldn’t want to talk to him either, and besides. He wasn’t allowed to see him on his own.

.

.

.

Prowl was waiting, as lucid as he’d ever been, when Soundwave and Knockout came the next morning. He scratched his chevron, then scratched lightly at the forcefield. He sat on the floor in front of the cage, solidly in ‘his’ room though the scratching structure still partially blocked the space where the dividing forcefield would appear. 

Soundwave signalled Knockout to activate it anyway. If Prowl jumped across before it sprang up again, he would just deliver his ration as usual, but if he didn’t… The gaps hadn’t been  _ too  _ big, in his opinion. Maybe he would even be able to offer Prowl the final cryptex to replace the foam balls he’d destroyed through them.

Prowl didn’t react as the dividing forcefield went up, nor when the field on the other cell dropped to allow Soundwave to enter. He  _ did _ react when Soundwave stepped in. He skittered over to the dividing forcefield to sit there, watching Soundwave. With reluctance, Knockout closed Soundwave in.

“So~undwave,” Prowl cooed.

“Yes.” Soundwave was surprised but pleased to hear Prowl say his name. Usually his thoughts simply labelled him as prey. “Soundwave: brings energon, new toy.”

“No questions,” Prowl said, almost mournfully. 

_ What is the Covenant of Primus?  _ “…No.”

Prowl cackled. “Liar.”

“Ration: not sacrifice,” Soundwave said confidently, knowing Prowl would not trade any answers for something he would be getting anyway. He held up both the cube and the cryptex, which he had already filled with more of the gelled energon previously (this time outside Prowl’s range of vision, but he no longer had to worry about Shockwave’s experiment parameters). “This: not sacrifice?”

Prowl braced against the forcefield to examine it. “It’s not  _ yours.” _

No, it wasn’t. It cost Soundwave nothing to give it to Prowl. But perhaps he could think of something that he was willing to give up. Either that or decide to give up on asking the question that had been burning in his processor since Cliffjumper had said the words.

“Spidermine, spidermine does whatever a spider does. Can it swing from a web? Not unless… youwantittoblowoffyourhead…” Prowl snickered. “The mathematics do not coexist peacefully.”

Soundwave didn’t ask what mathematics Prowl was talking about. One question he couldn’t decide on was bad enough. “Energon first,” he said, moving the hand with the cube closer to one of the overlarge gaps created by the scratching structure. Prowl snatched the cube, confirming that those gaps could potentially be a problem; Soundwave still didn’t know if Prowl could fit through them, but he obviously had no problems reaching through them.

“Soundwave—” Knockout warned.

“—fine,” Soundwave returned, not willing to move. Prowl was talking today, actually talking to him instead of fixating on him as a (literal) source of energon. He brought his other hand closer, putting the cryptex — and his arm — within range of Prowl’s claws.

Immediately Prowl lost interest in the cube — which for Prowl and a source of fuel meant subspacing it rather than dropping it — and focused on the puzzle. He tilted his head at it, examining it again, then snatched it too. 

Soundwave was careful not to get caught up in the tactical computer’s lightning-fast virtual destruction of the puzzle into its component parts, nor any of the repetitions that followed as Prowl’s systems solved the puzzle over and over again. Still, he felt dizzy, lagging, as Prowl subspaced the puzzle and changed focus.

“Your own mileage may vary.” 

“???” Soundwave gave a wordless interrogative tone rather than saying anything as he worked to catch up. 

Prowl gave him a vicious grin. “Do you have a question?” he asked mockingly.

This time Soundwave didn’t lie. “…Yes.” 

“How many Zen masters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” Prowl fell over laughing. His leg kicked in the air, twitching with mirth.

“Prowl: wants Soundwave to answer?” That hadn’t been a demand for a sacrifice… but then, Soundwave hadn’t asked his question yet.

“I suppose I could trade that… a simple answer for a simple answer. It’s not like you’re going to ask something only  _ I _ could answer, are you, Soundwave?” Prowl’s doorwings twitched against the ground as he squirmed to look up at Soundwave’s faceplate. “You are so… predictable.” That set him off laughing again. Soundwave felt a little bit annoyed at that alongside feeling unsettled by the way Prowl somehow managed once again to sound telepathic. 

He told himself to stop being ridiculous. Prowl didn’t have to know what he wanted to ask to make that guess and have it be right. Almost anything he could ask would be something  _ someone  _ else could answer, even if Soundwave didn’t have access to them. But he  _ did  _ have access to Cliffjumper; he just didn’t feel he could ask him.

Answering Prowl’s question wasn’t as simple as he made it sound though. What was a Zen master, and what did it have to do with screwing in lightbulbs?

Prowl’s mirth quieted.  _ To know the grand cosmic symphony at the heart of reality is to know everything. Probability rules the quantum stage, all probabilities happen/have happened, warps and curves in the fabric of nine dimensions. Power corrupts, and atomic power corrupts atomically…  _ Prowl giggled. 

Then he flipped himself up off his back and — lightning fast — squirmed through one of the gaps in the forcefield.

“Soundwave!” Knockout called in alarm, preparing to drop the shield and intervene.

“Don’t!” If anything, Knockout should follow the discussed protocol and only drop the interior forcefield so Soundwave could throw Prowl back into the other cell (and obviously shove the climbing structure out of the way), then re-engage the barrier. But Prowl wasn't attacking — he was asking a question.

Knockout gritted his teeth as he obeyed. A moment later the interior forcefield dropped. 

Prowl snickered. “It's easier said than done… and if you don't believe it, try proving that it's easier done than said, and you'll see that it's easier said that  _ it's easier done than said _ than it is done, which really proves that  _ it's easier said than done.” _

Soundwave let himself be distracted untangling that for a second, then refocused. He needed to answer the question.

Inane questions about screwing in lightbulbs were a human thing, he recalled after searching his memory for anything relevant. There were numerous variants of the question, which was actually the opening to a joke or a riddle, available on their internet. He could probably find what a Zen master was there, if not the actual answer — but the jamming field preventing Prowl from using his communications from inside the cell also prevented Soundwave from logging onto the web to run a search.

He didn’t even try asking Knockout to look it up for him. Assuming he would even be willing to, Prowl wouldn’t accept the answer as coming from Soundwave if he did that. He was just going to have to reason it out himself, without knowing what a Zen master was.

Perhaps that wasn’t a relevant part of the riddle. The questions were meant to have a humorous or surprising answer, which was often either one or— “Zero.”

Prowl purred and rubbed against Soundwave’s leg, stretching his doorwing up to be scratched. “Lucky guesses count. In my experience there’s no such thing as luck.”

It had been a reasoned guess, not a lucky guess, but Soundwave didn’t argue the point. It didn’t matter. Prowl’s doorwing demanding attention was much more important. Obligingly Soundwave reached down to stroke the waggling appendage.

“Well?” Prowl said.

“Covenant of Primus: what is it?” Soundwave asked, his curiosity itching like Prowl’s plating beneath his fingers.

“Irrelevant,” Prowl cooed. “There cannot be two separate everywheres. There cannot be two such knowledges. So survival of one over the other comes at a price: the striking of one prophecy from the annals of existence. That does not mean that there aren’t some truths, some patterns, that repeat.”

Soundwave let out a frustrated huff through his vents. That answer wasn’t helpful at all! 

“You asked for an answer. Helpful ones cost more than a riddle,” Prowl cackled, presenting his other door for scratching. Soundwave scratched it, reflecting on the wisdom of asking the crazy mech something he could have asked one of his comrades.

But if he’d asked Cliffjumper, he wouldn’t have gotten to pet Prowl again.

Itchy, scritch… Prowl left hairline scratches in Soundwave’s paint rubbing his chevron against his shins. Soundwave let him, unconsciously matching the rhythm of his hands to Prowl’s movements. From this angle he could see some of the many active repair sites on Prowl’s frame, all of which were doing well despite the strain he put on them with all his climbing and contortionism.

“Something, somewhere, somewhen must have happened differently,” Prowl cooed as he leaned into Soundwave’s scratching, shifting so Soundwave’s very lithe claws were brushing against a new spot. He was very much enjoying the contact. “It is not every question that deserves an answer.”

_ Get used to disappointment, _ Prowl had told him once. Good advice, even if Soundwave didn’t want to get used to it. In the grand scheme of things, not getting the answers to a couple of questions was hardly the biggest disappointment he’d have to live with.

He was already living with so many… So many disappointments, so many losses—

Soundwave kept petting Prowl, noting the rough texture under his fingers. With his surface nanites mostly dead not only was his plating a colorless gray, there was nothing to fill in or smooth out the kind of minor nicks and scratches his chevron was leaving in Soundwave’s plating.

He felt an odd patch in the texture of the plating. Not smooth, per se, but a mottled texture of bumps. Again he made a questioning sound, curious about its cause. Soundwave hesitated to bend down for a closer examination. From where he was standing, Prowl could easily maul his legs — a fact the tactical computer was continually reminding them both of; crouching down to examine him would involve putting his chest within easy striking range too. 

Deciding against doing that, he wrapped his fingers gently over the leading edge of Prowl’s door, trying to get a better feel for the strange texture.

It didn’t feel like dings or nicks or damage. The texture was raised, faintly bumpy, almost imperceptible to Soundwave’s fingers. He took the best image capture he could without moving, trying to feel as much detail as possible. Hopefully it would be enough for Knockout to have some idea what it was when he relayed the information. At least Prowl didn’t seem to mind him focusing on it — apparently whatever else it was, it was  _ itchy. _

Itchy, itchy, itchy… Soundwave shook himself free of the thought. Prowl moved again, shifting so that Soundwave was scratching down his back, over more of that strange texture. It was definitely new; patches of it covered areas Soundwave remembered being scrubbed bare when he had cleaned Prowl’s engine to take care of that rattle. He noted where it appeared, then let it go for later. 

Prowl squirmed and writhed presenting new areas for Soundwave to scratch. Everywhere Soundwave felt that new, mystifying texture on his plating. Prowl didn’t say anything else, thoughts reduced to an animalistic pleasure at having his itches soothed. 

With a sigh, Prowl flopped over on Soundwave’s foot, presenting his own foot to be scratched. Soundwave took it and adjusted his hold so he could reach along both sides, stroking the edges of the interlocking plates and gently rubbing over more bumpy patches. Prowl squirmed. Yesss…. Relief flooded Prowl’s processor an instant before he felt  _ itchy _ again and he presented the other foot. Soundwave followed the feeling, scratching over Prowl’s foot and then up — or rather, down — his leg, moving from one itch to the next. 

The way Prowl kept wriggling on the floor, Soundwave thought he might just scoot out from beneath his fingers so he’d have to follow him. Ravage had done that when she got reeeeeally into a good scratching session. But while Prowl moved back and forth, he never truly moved away. He just shifted so Soundwave could reach different areas of his armor, scratching aaaaall the itches… 

A spike of exasperation in his peripheral telepathy drew Soundwave’s attention over to Knockout. What was he annoyed about? He hadn’t been in the cell all that long… then he realized he’d wound up crouched over Prowl after all, chest and neck within easy range of his claws. 

Claws that were currently curling and flexing against the floor as Soundwave scratched a particularly itchy spot on his bumper.

Prowl relaxed, leg kicking lightly… and his mind was so suffused with that animal-pleasure that it took only a bit less than a breem for Soundwave to realize: Prowl had fallen into recharge.

Knockout hadn’t realized that yet though. Prowl in recharge didn’t look like typical recharge. If Soundwave didn’t say anything, he could just stay where he was, petting Prowl and enjoying the moment. He knew the medic would insist he take himself out of harm’s way once he knew the coast was clear, and he wasn’t ready… 

“Soundwave,” Knockout’s voice was unexpectedly gentle. “You should let him recharge.”

With a soft whine no one could hear, Soundwave reluctantly pulled away from the sleeping Praxan. He shuffled backward silently, pausing at the forcefield for Knockout to open for him to step out and leave Prowl behind.

As soon as they were out of the brig, Soundwave reached out to stop Knockout from stomping back to the medbay.

“What’s wrong?”

Knockout meant with Soundwave. There was nothing wrong with Soundwave, but he answered the question, in regards to Prowl. “Unknown. Prowl’s itch: unknown cause.” He brought up the image capture on his visor and magnified it. Even so, Soundwave could only barely see the almost microscopic, mottled, texture. “Bumps,” he did his best to describe that he’d felt, “recent development on plating.”

Knockout’s exasperated thought that Prowl was causing problems  _ again _ was not the most charitable one the medic had ever had. There was also a staunch refusal to even consider taking the troublesome feral back to the medbay. Prowl was staying right where he was!

He sighed though, and deliberately swept those thoughts under his professional concern and examined the image capture as best he could.

“It didn’t hurt him when you touched it?” Knockout asked, already knowing the answer. Soundwave wouldn’t have continued scratching Prowl’s itches if it had been causing the mech pain.

“No. Itched. Pleas—” Soundwave cut the recording (Starscream’s voice) off before the word could be completed. “Prowl:  _ relieved _ by scratching,” he spliced together with more composure.

“I’ll cobble together a medical scanner for you to use next time he lets you get close,” Knockout said thoughtfully, “and we’ll keep an optic on it, but I suspect it’s just his color nanites recovering and repopulating his plating after having been starved for so long. He’s not going to be stuck as plain, metal grey for the rest of his life. It’s a good sign.”

It was. Soundwave felt… happy, hearing some good news for once. Prowl was recovering, if only in this one, small way.

Now he just needed to figure out a proper ‘sacrifice’ he could give Prowl to convince him to let Soundwave use the medical scanner. He’d gained a clue this visit: it had to be something that belonged to Soundwave. To go along with Prowl’s earlier insistence that answers cost, Soundwave thought he was starting to understand the parameters of a ‘sacrifice’. 

Whatever Soundwave gave him, it also had to fit the parameters of the prisoner protocols: something Prowl couldn’t use to make a weapon. 

He could make his own toy to try and give Prowl, like he had done for Ra— some of his cassettes in the past. Something more complex than the balls Soundwave was still trying to use to entice Prowl into a cooperative game. It would be distressingly simple compared to Shockwave’s cryptex, nowhere near a challenge for Prowl’s tactical computer, but that didn’t seem to matter to Prowl when he played with other things. Making a toy like that would still be an investment of Soundwave’s time, creativity, and materials. Assuming Soundwave understood how the exchange compulsion worked, if Prowl accepted it, he would be compelled to allow Soundwave to use the scanner to examine the strange bumps… 


	12. Chapter 11

Soundwave's interactions (still supervised, per medical mandate) with Prowl continued to go well, if uneventful counted as well. Prowl's behavior wasn't backsliding; he had yet to attempt all-out mauling anyone, at least. But there was no marked improvement in his condition either. The patches of recolonizing nanites, for that was what they proved to be, weren’t far enough along to restore any of his true colors yet, and mentally he was as capricious and unpredictable as ever. Knockout still felt that there was no real hope of rehabilitation, but Soundwave wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up.

If Soundwave was being honest with himself — if he was  _ capable _ of being honest with himself — his desire to help Prowl was only getting stronger. He tried to resist the pull to visit more often, not wanting to reveal his growing obsession by continually pestering Knockout to chaperone him, but it was hard. Watching surveillance footage wasn't the same as being there in person. It wasn't enough.

Maybe… maybe if he just looked in on him? Soundwave wondered late one night when he was wandering the ship, unable to recharge. It wouldn't be disobeying orders, he rationalized, as long as he stayed outside the cell. That would be close enough to feel Prowl's mind, to see how he was doing, and give him some company without requiring a chaperone. Decision made, his aimless footsteps gained purpose, making their way silently down to the brig.

That justification was even easier to make the next time… and the next. Now whenever Soundwave couldn't seem to enter recharge, he gave in to the urge to go see Prowl without a second thought. Like tonight, as he made his way down the corridors with Laserbeak floating gently behind him, helping keep an optic out for anyone else up and about so late. Most of the other Decepticons were off-duty or in recharge like Soundwave should have been. 

Unlike all the other nights he'd made the now-familiar trek, something… seemed off this time, as Soundwave drew closer to the brig. Like someone screaming psychically for his attention, too softly to hear clearly without reaching out…

Soundwave slowed his approach, trying to pinpoint the odd feeling. There was something familiar about it, or something that  _ should _ feel familiar… then his thoughts game to a grinding halt. He’d arrived in the brig, slipping soundlessly inside, only to see — Ravage! That was  _ Ravage _ inside the cell!

"SOUNDWAVE!" Ravage yowled desperately, lunging out from beneath the slab substituting for a berth. "We've got to get out of here!"

The Autobot brig on the  _ Nemesis  _ was dark and sinister around him. Soundwave could see they had taken precautions with his clever symbiote; the cell wasn't standard at all. He stepped closer, for some reason not quite ready to believe he'd found her — so easily. that he'd found her so easily — and ran into a powerful communications jamming field.

Soundwave felt Laserbeak at his back, worried — that someone would find them before Soundwave could free Ravage — until he sent soothing reassurance and a command to keep watch over their bond, looking through the flighted symbiote's optics like a second pair of his own while he quickly took in Ravage's condition.

She seemed… the Autobots must not have gotten around to torturing her yet. Something about that seemed almost wrong, somehow, but— Ravage interrupted the thought, clawing at the force field to get Soundwave's attention — Soundwave's thoughts felt scattered — before drawing back, hissing in pain. "There isn't much time before the  _ Nemesis  _ blows up!"

Soundwave's attention zeroed in on the timer on her HUD: a timer counting down the last two breems before the explosives she had set in the  _ Nemesis' _ engine room before being caught went off.

"Well done, Ravage," Soundwave said, reaching out telepathically to her through the force field, searching for — troop movements and guard rotations, they needed a safe way out — and any other details she could provide. Ravage opened up, letting him see and sift through everything she knew. It wasn't much. Soundwave saw vague memories of two interrogators, of others wandering the halls. The actual guards seemed to be concentrated at strategic points: the bridge, the brig, the engine room, security… She didn't have a headcount, but Soundwave got a sense of small gaps she could use to slip through if needed…

Splitting his already scattered thoughts further, Soundwave made his way over to the cell controls. He couldn't help but admire the setup from a professional standpoint. The system was isolated and locked down thoroughly, but that wasn't going to stop him!

The jamming field on the  _ Nemesis, _ and in this room especially, made wireless communications impossible. Laserbeak provided his only external input as Soundwave set to manually hacking the controls. He didn't bother looking for a dataport; a hardline might have been faster, but there was also the risk of it being slower if he ran into any traps, and he couldn't afford to risk it. Not with them all on a timer. Not with his symbiotes’ lives at stake.

It was a peculiar frustration, having to slow down to save time, but despite the urgency coming from Ravage, Soundwave moved carefully to take down the force field. Better to only have to do it once, and avoid tripping any alarms in the process. The controls were fairly simple to use. Locked yes, but obviously designed to easily open from this side of the cell. The whole setup was meant to keep Ravage inside, not to prevent someone outside from freeing her. The Autobots must have had no idea he was close enough to the ship for a rescue!

The instant Soundwave shorted out the force field, Ravage ran to him to rub her head against the plating of his leg and purr, briefly. "Tell me you have an exit route for us," she demanded, even as she continued to rub, soothing her fear with the closeness.

"Calculating." Soundwave dropped a hand to her helm, the physical touch comforting and reassuring to him as well. The moment couldn't last though. There wasn't time! Quickly, Soundwave reviewed the data that Ravage had provided and the data — that he'd gotten on his way in — to plot a path to the nearest external egress point. "Exit route: acquired."

Ravage nodded and sat back on her haunches, quivering with readiness. "I can run, but I can't dock," she informed him. Inconvenient, but not unexpected. Frankly, Soundwave had expected her to be in worse shape. "No weapons, except my claws," which left grooves on the floor as she flexed them, waiting for an order.

Soundwave had one ready. "Ravage: follow. Laserbeak: scout ahead." Straightening, he moved swiftly to the brig door, symbiotes at his side. Ravage being unable to dock would be problematic when they went to leave the ship, since it would be easier to carry her securely that way. Soundwave wanted to fix — there wasn't time to see what was causing the problem. The exit was close, but they could still encounter anyone on their way out.

They took off down the hall together, Laserbeak in the lead. Soundwave began passively scanning for anyone nearby telepathically as they moved. He kept his mental probing extremely light, ready to pull back at the first hint of contact. The last thing they needed was to alert any of the Autobots capable of detecting his skills to their presence. Without any backup, the three of them would be in a lot of trouble if they ran into Arcee, or worse, Jazz.

Ravage stuck close, her movements awkward. Soundwave pinged her for a damage report, concerned, but she just pinged back a minimal list of injuries. Soundwave had more than enough experience to know when a symbiote was withholding information from him, but her urgency overwhelmed his instinct to stop and check her over once again. She could run; that was all that mattered right now. Anything else could wait until they were safe on the ground.

The halls were, luckily, empty. They weren't moving as fast as Soundwave would have liked, but there were cameras — whose positions he had scouted before — that they needed to avoid, so making a break for it straight down the middle of the hall was out. Ravage's difficulty moving didn't affect her steps being as deadly silent as ever, and Laserbeak hardly disturbed the air as she pinwheeled around corners to check for Autobots. Soundwave's biggest concern was that one of them, secure and complacent in the belief that the Decepticons would never find their cloaked ship, would stumble across them by accident.

All was going well until they reached the last door, the one Soundwave had come in through that would lead him and his cohort back outside. The quiet, out of the way airlock had been locked since he passed through it; someone must have come by and reset the security system.

Soundwave checked the countdown — only a bit over a breem left until the ship would explode — as he began working to override the door manually, rather than jacking in. He'd dodged that potential trap once already in the brig, and he wasn't going to risk it now unless he had no other choice.

He hadn't gotten far enough when he felt the quiet thoughts of an Autobot skulking around the bowels of the ship, avoiding his comrades. Options flashed through his mind: move on, hide, find another door — no time! — and then Cliffjumper was coming around the corner.

_ SOUNDWAVE! _ the mech’s thoughts shouted as he tensed, weapons spinning up automatically—

"Ravage, Laserbeak: attack!" The commands snapped through the air as Soundwave transformed his blaster and levelled it at their opponent. He crouched, ready to either jump forward and assist or move back and keep working on the lock. Getting the door open was even more imperative now; Cliffjumper would alert his comrades to their escape any nanoklik!

Ravage yowled as she obeyed, leaping through the air. Cliffjumper hesitated oddly — understandably — before his combat instincts took over, one arm transforming into a neutron assault rifle right as Ravage latched onto it. With a curse, Cliffjumper flung her away and sprayed a burst of bullets at Laserbeak, forcing her to dive and ruining her shots. There was an odd sense of  _ relief _ in his thoughts, but — ENEMY! — the urgency of the situation reasserted itself, and Soundwave let it go.

Ravage recovered, rebounding at Cliffjumper to bite his gun-arm. She hung on with her claws, raking and kicking the larger mech with her hind legs while Laserbeak tried to realign her shots, then chirred in distress, unable to fire. Ravage was too close to the Autobot, hissing and spitting and tearing at his plating while he cursed and swung at her, leaving dents but failing to force her to release her grip.

Soundwave wanted to help — WE HAVE NO TIME! — Soundwave fell back to the door, trusting his symbiotes to cover for him while he secured their way out. It was — NECESSARY — and he poured his attention into the mechanism, forcing fear and worry aside until there was time for such luxuries.

Behind him the fight continued, growing in intensity. Cries of pain in three different voices and automatic damage reports (minor) from his two symbiotes bombarded Soundwave's processor as he tried to focus on the task at hand. Getting off the ship and  _ away _ was more important than the fight, even more important than — through Laserbeak's optics, Soundwave saw Cliffjumper struggle free of Ravage long enough to hit the nearby alarm switch. Laserbeak's lasers scored his armor; with a snarl, the Autobot sprayed another hail of bullets in her direction before Ravage was on him again, ripping and tearing at his weapon, trying to pull it off, her mind full of protective fury — the door! Finish getting the door open!

Concentrating ruthlessly, Soundwave kept tampering with the overrides until he heard the lock click open. He was already launching away from it, back into the ship as it spiralled open behind him. He was  _ not _ going to leave them behind!

With Ravage still engaging Cliffjumper, he went for Laserbeak first. "Laserbeak: return!" he commanded. She didn't fly fast enough to keep up once they were in the open air. Peeling off her strafing pattern, Laserbeak disengaged and docked with a swift transformation. As soon as her weight settled securely against him, Soundwave pivoted and brought his blaster up, aiming right at Cliffjumper.

Noticing the sudden lack of cover fire, Ravage looked up, met Soundwave's optics, and then with a last vicious, crippling swipe to the Autobot's arm, turned and ran for him. Her weight slammed into him, sending them both careening towards the door. Soundwave let Ravage's momentum carry them backwards, firing wildly with his blaster. He didn't hit anything since Ravage colliding with him threw off his aim, but it would buy them precious time.

Cliffjumper brought his gun-arm up — crippled as it was, he needed to aim it with his other hand — but then hesitated again. Soundwave didn't have a chance to wonder at that though, because suddenly the first Autobot reinforcements appeared around the corner from deeper in the ship.

Soundwave didn't get a good look at the new arrivals, but he thought he saw First Aid — probably there to collect Cliffjumper — as he twisted in the air. He transformed his blaster away once they cleared the door frame, shifting into alt mode beneath Ravage so she could hold onto his back. Settling into the air was awkward with her clinging roughly to his dorsal plating instead of being properly docked, but urgency and desperation were powerful motivators, and Soundwave made it happen.

Then, bare nanokliks after he levelled out, the sound of flight engines above him sent a burst of panic through his lines. Jetfire!

_ Ravage: hold on tight! _ The telepathic command held surprisingly little of the fear he was feeling. Her claws would hurt, but the pain of losing her would be — the pain of losing her — HE WAS NOT LOSING HER!

Behind him, Soundwave sensed Jetfire transforming to pursue. Jetfire was large and, as such, not as maneuverable in the air as Soundwave was (usually; they were probably about on par now with Ravage riding on his back instead of docked). He was, however, capable of moving very fast given enough time to build up speed, and had weapons powerful enough to knock Soundwave out of the sky with only a single well-aimed shot.

They needed to get to the ground, and fast. Soundwave started looking for a place to land. The air was alien — irrelevant — and the landscape disorienting, though oddly familiar —unimportant — but there was no time to try making sense of it. Not with Jetfire gaining speed behind him. He really needed to find — THERE! An open field, with some tre— alien growths — nearby to provide cover, with what looked like a maybe a town beyond it. Buildings, at least, in which Ravage and Laserbeak could hide.

He banked sharply into the wind. Odd, that Jetfire hadn’t fired any shots — irrelevant — as he made for the clearing. He transformed to land, but still wound up skidding and losing his balance. Ravage fell the remaining distance to the ground, crashing down hard enough to dent almost her entire side — the saddest thing was a piano in space — what a strange thought. Something about it was familiar enough for a memory to flicker at the back of Soundwave's processor, but then Jetfire slammed into the ground behind him, rising up to loom over him.

"Soundwave—" he began. Ravage scrambled to her feet, flaring her — bristling her armor — as she snarled back at Jetfire.

Soundwave rolled to get his feet back under him and put some distance between himself and Jetfire. A damage report scrolled by on his HUD; he was hurt, but Ravage was hurt more, and he would not lose her!

Jetfire took a step forward. His footsteps were heavy, ponderous — the high glass-edged song of magic cracking — CANNOT LOSE HER! — "Soundwave?" He started to swing out his hand, the one with the weapon! Soundwave's vision blurred, overwhelmed by the — chaos dripping from the blade of entropy made manifest; the death of starsong —  ~~fusion~~ rocket cannon.

Ravage snarled (weakly) at Jetfire again. The huge flyer glanced down at her, thoughts hostile. "Soundwave," he said a third time. "Pl—"

There was no time to configure his blaster. " _ RUN! _ " Soundwave yelled, the shout tearing painfully from his vocalizer like a sob. 

Obediently, Ravage ran, breaking for the trees. Soundwave wished he could hold her one more time—! Then he lunged at Jetfire, bringing one arm up to swing the hard armored edge down like a sword, using the flat plane of the other like a shield over his torso where Laserbeak was docked.

Jetfire seemed almost startled by the attack, and Soundwave knocked his weapon away easily. "Stand down!" he yelled as it fell, but Soundwave was beyond hearing. The mech had left himself wide open for another attack… 

Soundwave drew his arm back to take advantage of the opening. Cables tensed and twanged  _ wrongness _ as he coiled back the strike, something pulling tight and fragile in his mind. His fist flew, slicing through the air and he felt the impact before he connected with anything, felt something cracking around him, inside him… 

Soundwave's balance faltered as the world  _ tilted. _ He staggered, then looked up… into Megatron's face.

Megatron looked down at Soundwave, too shocked to respond right away. The telepath’s swing went wide as reality poured back into his head, overbright and too loud and painful. Ravage… Ravage was dead… and Soundwave had attacked Lord Megatron.

And Prowl… Prowl was gone. Escaped like Ravage — no. Ravage hadn’t escaped, but Prowl was gone. They were gone…

Soundwave’s frame seized and locked up as his processor froze, horror and agony overwhelming him. How had… how could… he couldn’t…

Instead of landing the blow, Soundwave simply landed on Megatron, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. Megatron came out of his own shocked state and the warlord’s concern swept over him, bright and loud and too-intrusive as he caught the falling mech. “Are you… you, now, Soundwave?”

His lord’s thoughts were like slivers of glass, sharp and painful and full of tiny reflected images of Soundwave hacked, reprogrammed, taken. 

Soundwave couldn’t answer; not with his voice, not with any voice. He might have been shaking, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe that was the world shaking, continuing to fall apart around him.

Megatron lifted Soundwave easily. “Shockwave,” he called, “I need a groundbridge to medical.” It took a long, too long, moment for the distinctive sound of a bridge opening to invade Soundwave’s broken world.

Soundwave didn’t want to be conscious anymore. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened. He didn’t even  _ know  _ what had happened — but he did. He knew he had disobeyed orders, that he helped Prowl escape and injured Cliffjumper. He knew he had attacked Megatron. Soundwave could see all of it, like two different recording feeds from two different cameras: what he could see right there in front of his optics side by side with what he had believed. Facts and guilt and fault and blame…

It hurt. Among the too-many thoughts crowding his processor Soundwave could tell he was overclocking, overheating, and he couldn’t find the line of code inside the noise that would let him shut it all down.

He didn’t notice entering the groundbridge. He didn’t notice being laid down on the medical berth. He didn’t notice Knockout’s soothing words, though Megatron’s questions about hacks and viruses briefly penetrated the shaking haze of jumbled images and memories…

That’s not what happened, Soundwave thought uselessly. That’s not what happened…

Knockout made an agreeing sound and started to pull out the medberth’s restraints. He snapped the first cuff onto Soundwave’s limp arm, then quickly moved on to the next. “I’ll check, as soon as I can, but right now, if he’s not crashing immediately, I need to get Cliffjumper stabilized.”

Thoughts — Knockout’s thoughts — joined the mirror shards of Lord Megatron’s piercing observations. He didn’t want to sedate Soundwave without checking first if the hack or virus was making him crash or continuing to damage him. So he was going to jack in, check that Soundwave wasn’t about to die, then sedate him to deal with once Cliffjumper was no longer bleeding.

Cliffjumper! The name triggered another cascade of broken, sharp, thoughts. Soundwave had too many processing trees open at once, past and present and thoughts and emotions and shame and guilt, but he tried to move, tried to reach out with his telepathy to see through the others if he was okay. He got as far as an impression of Breakdown, over at the next berth with Cliffjumper — but not as far as understanding the extent of the injuries he, Soundwave, had allowed to happen — before recoiling at the influx of too much data.

He didn’t keen where he was laying on the slab, but his fans started to click in distress.

Megatron held Soundwave down, though the telepath didn’t resist. It was the work of a moment for Knockout to finish restraining him to the berth, then the medic overrode the locks on the protective panel over the main processor port. Swiftly, and ignoring a protest from Megatron in the process, he jacked in. Soundwave’s firewalls — what few scraps of defensive code he could maintain — fell to the medical overrides. Knockout ran a diagnostic, cut off control over his datacles (standard procedure in case Soundwave was ever compromised, said a sharp shard of intrusive thought) then pulled back, replacing his networking cord with a sedative chip in Soundwave’s port with a swift, practiced motion.

Soundwave’s frame went limp and his mind dark. His (blissfully!) last thought was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to wake up again…


	13. Epilogue

As soon as Cliffjumper was stable, Knockout turned his attention to Soundwave. He ran a full diagnostic and defragmentation on his processor, though unconscious as he was, Soundwave was unaware until after the medic finished going over his code with a fine-toothed comb and finally allowed him to wake up. He came back online disoriented, all his files and filepaths rearranged by Knockout's meddling.

He would have been angry, but given how badly he'd fragmented his own drive, it was actually helpful. Once he was able to start making sense of it, anyway.

He was still restrained to the berth, Soundwave realized. Of course; they thought he was compromised. From the outside his actions had looked like an enemy hack, but there was nothing for Knockout to find in his processor; no damage to be repaired. Of course they would be suspicious. They couldn't take any chances when they still didn't understand what had happened.

Soundwave understood. He knew exactly what had happened, how he'd been used. The insane Praxan hadn't needed to hack him, not when Soundwave had provided the perfect weakness for him to manipulate. Prowl hadn't forced him to do anything; all he’d done was give him a little push. Soundwave had done the rest all of his own volition in a state of willing self-delusion.

He was immensely grateful no one had died for his foolishness.

“Wakey, wakey.” Knockout still sent waves of  _ disturbing similarities _ tags proliferating through Soundwave’s memory files, which before had been annoying and now were disorienting with those files completely rearranged. “I can’t find anything wrong with you, so you need to give me a clue to work with, Soundwave, or I’m going to have to hand you over to Shockers to start looking for the sort of nasty things I might miss.”

Not that Shockwave was guaranteed to find and reverse that sort of deep-code level reprogramming either. Dealing with agents coming back from missions who were at risk of  _ that _ was Soundwave’s job.

So what could he give him as a ‘clue’? Start with the fact that it hadn’t been a hack, maybe. Soundwave tipped his helm to face Knockout and… couldn’t find the words he needed in the jumble of his processor. His soundclips were all out of order, not sorted along their proper indexes for easy retrieval and he was too wrung out to deal with them, but he needed to say something… he needed to say something… 

He  _ had  _ said something, hadn’t he? To Rava— to  _ Prowl. _

Atonal and nearly inaudible, full of static and scratches like an ill-used record, Soundwave spoke in his  _ own  _ voice: “Not… hack…” 

“What?” Knockout whipped around to look Soundwave directly in the faceplate. Fleetingly Soundwave heard the thought that the medic hadn’t really expected an answer, not a vocal one, since he knew his soundclips were not organized right, but it was pushed aside by the realization that Soundwave  _ hadn’t _ used a soundclip and a need to confirm that he (Knockout) wasn’t hallucinating. “Say that again.”

It hurt to say the words out loud; hurt physically and emotionally. He hadn't spoken since he'd lost… since he'd lost Ravage. He'd been badly damaged himself at the time, and while Knockout had sworn there was no medical reason he shouldn't be able to talk after he repaired him, Soundwave hadn't been able to work around the disconnect in his processor between his thoughts and his voice.

Until now.

"Not… hacked," he repeated painfully, the knot of grief he’d been carrying finally loosening its stranglehold in the face of his guilt. "Processor, fine."

To his credit, Knockout didn’t immediately pounce and try and get Soundwave to answer all sorts of questions about what  _ had _ happened. He took out his scanner, ran it over Soundwave’s vocalizer, checking to make sure that speaking after centuries silent wasn’t causing him any physical distress. His conclusion was, as it had always been, that there was nothing wrong with the physical components.

“Alright Soundwave,” he said gently. “Take it slow, one word at a time, and don’t worry about any static or pops: if you weren’t hacked, what  _ did _ happen?”

Slowly, one word at a time, Soundwave managed to answer. "Flashback. Prowl… triggered flashback." Not exactly, since what he'd been seeing was distorted reality, not a memory, but the effect had been very like being caught in a flashback. "Soundwave: saw…" he choked briefly, struggling with her name, "saw Ravage. Prowl, appeared as Ravage. Trapped. Soundwave… rescued… rescued…" But he hadn't, had he? He hadn't been able to rescue Ravage, and she had died. 

And Prowl hadn't needed rescuing. He'd just needed someone to help him escape, and Soundwave had been just the mech for the job, perfectly broken to suit his needs.

“Soundwave…  _ sorry.” _

Knockout’s thoughts became a tangled morass of compassion for Soundwave. It was clear he didn’t yet understand that it had been something Prowl had done deliberately. An illusion as much as a delusion. “It’s alright. Cliffjumper’s fine and he doesn’t blame you,” truth, Soundwave saw from Knockout’s memory. Cliffjumper didn’t know how Prowl had done what he did, didn’t care, but he rightly put all the blame on the crazy Praxan. “There’s no harm done.”

Yes there was. “Cliffjumper, hurt. Prowl, escaped. Soundwave…” Oh, but he was not happy remembering this, “Soundwave: attacked Lord Megatron.”

“Cliffjumper is going to make a full recovery. If he doesn’t stop defacing my medbay, I’m going to kick him out to finish recovering without my help. Prowl will,” Knockout stopped himself from saying  _ be fine, _ because it was an empty platitude; Knockout didn’t believe it and Soundwave could see perfectly well he didn’t believe it. “It’s better this way. We won’t be spending the resources on him, and I’m sure he’ll be happier spending whatever time he has left,”  _ before he gets shot trying to raid one of the Energon mines, _ “outside a cage. And Megatron…” Knockout paused. “One — he doesn’t blame you, and two — that barely counted as an attack. You didn’t hit him; you fell on him.”

“Meant to attack.” He’d had every intention of using deadly force to protect ‘Ravage’. Only the whole thing collapsing around him had kept him from throwing everything he had against one of his oldest and closest friends. "Let Prowl suggest, deceive." 

“It’s not your fault the pest reminded you of Ravage,” Knockout insisted.

He still wasn't getting that Prowl had actively manipulated Soundwave. The medic thought the whole episode had been an unfortunate manifestation of PTSD.

Tempting as it was to let him believe that, Soundwave had a responsibility to report the truth of what had happened, to let him know that even though he hadn't been hacked in any traditional sense and there wouldn't be any lingering aftereffects to watch out for, he had still been compromised.

"Prowl: wasn't reminding," he began, trying to find a way to explain. It hadn't been a psychic attack, for all Prowl had used Soundwave's own telepathy against him, but… how exactly  _ had  _ he done it? "Prowl, deliberately impersonating. Mimicked Ravage's thoughts, masked his own. Appeared as Ravage to telepathy."

_ That’s not possible, _ was Knockout’s immediate, reflexive, thought. Prowl had no psychic abilities to enforce such an illusion and no mental discipline to even try. It wasn’t possible for someone to appear to be someone else to Soundwave’d telepathy. That involved more than mimicry; that would (theoretically! Because it wasn’t possible!) involve changing the entire structure of how he thought, digging up a copy of Ravage’s memories, and a thousand other things Knockout didn’t even understand. Even if it was possible for someone to do it (it wasn’t), it still shouldn’t have  _ worked _ for someone to impersonate one of Soundwave’s own symbiotes!

"Should not have worked," Soundwave agreed, because Knockout was right.  _ No one _ had known Ravage as well as Soundwave. He should have been able to spot the fake. But Prowl knew things he shouldn't, couldn't; things about non-existent gods and twisted, disturbingly similar versions of them all. "Did." And, because he had to be honest no matter how hard it was to admit the truth, "Soundwave: wanted. Wanted it to be real."

“Oh Soundwave,” Knockout put his hand on the telepath’s chest; he  _ wanted _ to throw his arms around him in a hug. “It’s alright. As I said, no real harm done. Everything will be fine. You don’t need to say anymore.”

Soundwave shuddered, emotions he'd been keeping a lid on for centuries swirling dizzyingly through his processor. "Prowl knew… knew how to use… PTSD," he said, finally, finally acknowledging it, "against Soundwave." It hurt, it hurt  _ so much, _ but he couldn't keep pretending he was fine anymore. Not when it had left him open to this. Not when it had almost cost lives.

Was he crying? He was crying.

He wasn’t aware of it when he was released from the restraints. Or when Knockout’s hands were replaced by another’s. Someone who lacked Knockout’s hesitation to wrap his arms around Soundwave and lift him up into the enveloping shelter of a hug.

He didn’t notice he was sobbing into Megatron’s glossy gold armor until he hiccuped his way to a stop. “Lord Megatron!” There was even more static in his voice now from crying, but it was still the first time he’d truly spoken to his leader in so long. “Soundwave: sorry.”

“I know. It’s alright, my friend.” Megatron’s thoughts were of how very  _ relieved _ he was to have Soundwave back, whole, sane,  _ himself. _ Everything else, in his view, was secondary. Soundwave’s slip hadn’t cost them, the Decepticons, anything vital — most vitally, Soundwave himself. All else could be forgiven.

Or, at least,  _ Soundwave _ could be forgiven. The  _ feral _ was another matter entirely. If Megatron ever saw Prowl again, he was going to kill the vicious lunatic with extreme prejudice.

Soundwave didn't have the energy to sustain that kind of anger himself, though he was mad: mad at Prowl, and mad at himself. It was just one more drop in the ocean of feelings he was just barely keeping afloat in, however, so he left it to Megatron (ignoring the new #DisturbingSimilarities tag) and let himself sag against the support and comfort he offered. It was a relief to see, to know he hadn't hurt him. 

Megatron just held him.


End file.
